I Wish I Knew How to Quit You
by Hannah and Co
Summary: A slightly differing take on the story of Brokeback Mountain, this story delves further into the lives of both cowboys and extends on events that were mostly passed over in the film version... with a completely different, surprising ending.
1. DISCLAIMER

**DISCLAIMER:**

Neither I nor my guest author Julia own any of the characters from Brokeback Mountain. They are the property of E. Annie Proulx and are subject to copyright and all that jazz.

Story segments involving Ennis Del Mar, Alma Beers, and their children are written by author Hannah.

Story segments involving Jack Twist, Lureen Newsome, and Bobby Twist are written by guest author Julia.


	2. Chapter One

Nineteen was the age of discovery for Ennis Del Mar. He had discovered love in the form of the petite, kind-hearted, fresh-faced Alma Beers, and he had proposed marriage to her; he had discovered that he was now old enough to go into a saloon and order a drink from the irritated old barkeep, who would grumble on about 'kids these days', but Ennis never really listened; and he had discovered that, now that his brother had left him on his own, he would have to fend for himself. It was good that his brother had waited until Ennis was completely self-dependant to leave him to look after himself indefinitely, but the problem was, Ennis had no idea where the good work was. People who talked to him about it - for he never asked; in fact, Ennis hardly ever spoke at all, unless he could not help it - always told him the work they did was good work, but never where they found it or how to get it if Ennis were to one day be interested.

That one day had come, and still Ennis had no idea where to find work or how to get it once he found it. He sat in the coffee-shop, sipping away at his last dollar, topped with cream, when he happened to glance over and see a truck driver reading a newspaper. On the back of the paper were classified ads, and instantly Ennis, overcoming his shy inclination towards muteness, had asked to see it. The truck driver had conceded, and Ennis had taken the classifieds and looked through them, finally coming to rest on an ad for sheep-drivers. Then his thought process was broken by a voice, asking, "Find anything you like?"

Ennis looked up. The trucker was staring at him. He swallowed, then mumbled, "Sheep-driving."

"Let me see?" asked the truck driver. Ennis had handed over the paper, indicating the job opening, and the truck driver had nodded. "I'm heading that way soon myself," he told Ennis, handing the paper back. "You can catch a ride with me, if you want."

Ennis felt his face heat up slightly. He was disinclined to trust strangers of any kind, especially when they were being so kind to him. "Ionno," he answered truthfully, turning back to his coffee. "Mighty long way to drive a stranger." He took a sip of the coffee, making sure not to burn his tongue or the roof of his mouth, refusing to match eyes with the trucker.

It was not that Ennis thought the trucker would try to overpower him and take advantage of him in any way; Ennis was a big man, he could take care of himself. Standing at over six feet tall, his characteristically short hair curled about the perimeter of his face in honey waves, and his intelligent, dark, almond-shaped eyes had a tendency to dwell in one place and stay there, even when he turned his head. He did not like to look at people, and often kept his large, tan hands busy with distractions like whittling, rather than trying to interact with the world around him. Ennis was a very lonely person, not because he could not make friends, but because he chose not to; he had a strange inclination to be alone. He did not talk to strangers, and therefore could not make friends with them. Had it not been for Alma, Ennis figure he would probably have been alone for the rest of his life.

"What, you think I'm trying to take advantage of you or somethin'?" the truck driver asked, straightforward.

Ennis blushed harder. "No, sir," he mumbled. "Jus'… don't wanna take advantage of you, 's all."

"Oh, no, don't you worry," the trucker said with a friendly smile, slapping Ennis on the back. Ennis cringed at the contact, but said nothing. "I'm headin' off that way anyhow, so why not give another working-man a lift while I'm at it."

Ennis nodded to the man. "Thank you very much, sir," he mumbled with a tight, polite smile in the man's direction. He turned back to his coffee, started to take a sip, then realized he did not really want it anymore and reached into his pocket to find the money to pay for it. He pulled out his left jeans pocket, then his right one, then tried digging through his jacket pockets for money, but, once again, came up empty-handed. He looked up at the woman behind the counter, who was holding a pitcher of coffee and watching him. He blushed even harder than before. "I don't seem to have any money," he told her apologetically. "Can I wash a couple dishes or somethin' t'…?"

He was cut off by the trucker laying a dollar down on the counter in front of him. "I got your tab," he told him with a smile. Ennis stared at the man, confused.

"I can jus' wash some dishes or somethin', you don't need t' pay for me…" he mumbled, embarrassed.

"I know," said the trucker, "but it's only a cup of coffee, and I'm heading out anyways. You staying behind to wash dishes would be a waste of both our times."

Ennis swallowed. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"No problem," the trucker replied with a friendly smile. Then he turned to leave, beckoning for Ennis to come along. "So, we headed out to old Brokeback?" he asked as he and Ennis headed for the door of the coffee shop.

Ennis nodded, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and walking slightly hunched, his eyes straight ahead, rather than on the man he was conversing with. "Never been there b'fore," he admitted. "Hear it's cold."

"It can get mighty cold around this time of year," the trucker said. "But the view is absolutely beautiful."

Ennis nodded. "Heard that, too," he said.

"Brokeback Mountain is a magnificent place, son," said the trucker, "they say it has strange effects on people. Causes 'em to do things they'd never do otherwise."

Ennis shook his head. "Oh, no, sir," he said with a slight, short chuckle. "I'm not gonna get all bent out of character, not for no mountain."

The trucker shrugged and opened the passenger's side door of his eighteen-wheeler, indicating for Ennis to climb inside. "That's what everybody says," he told him as Ennis hopped up into the seat. "But I guess you can never really know until you get there." Ennis frowned, looking out at him, but the trucker closed the door, walked around to the driver's side of the truck, got in, and turned on the semi. "So, you still want to go?" he asked, turning to Ennis.

Ennis bit his lip, then nodded. "Yessir," he mumbled.

The truck driver nodded, too, then turned back and put the truck into Drive.

_____

"Jack, why don't you stay with your paw and me this summer? Huh? You don't have to go way up there."

"Let him go. If the boy don't want be here, he don't hafta. He don't need to be babied. " Jack rolled his eyes and continued looking for supplies for the long trip. He grabbed a bag and shoved his items into it, ignoring his mother's pleas to 'pack it nicely.'

Jack Twist put the last of his things into his beat up, black GMC Pick-up. Once again he was headed into Signal, Wyoming to work for Aguirre. Last year had been pretty bad, he had lost a huge percentage of the sheep to a thunderstorm and the ranch hand who was supposed to help him was only good at drawing every damn bug on god's green earth to their camp site. Hopefully the help was better this time; it also wouldn't hurt if they were interesting nor if they had a lick of sense. He double checked his supplies and glanced in the mirror once before he left. He briefly thought of shaving, but decided he'd do it later. Giving his mom a final kiss on the cheek and tipping his black hat at his father, Jack walked out of the door and to his truck. He considered the length from Lightning Flats to Signal; he needed to get some gas and stop for food. He opened the door to his jalopy of a truck, got inside and backed out of his parent's ranch.

About thirty minutes into the drive, Jack felt his stomach grumble and decided it was time to get something to eat. He pulled into a truck stop diner past a semi which was pulling out. He pulled up to one of the pumps and pumped in a full tank of twenty gallons. He walked into the combination diner and gas station, slapped down six crumpled dollar bills on the counter, asked for a pack of smokes and placed another dollar on top of the bills. He nodded politely at the young woman behind the counter and extended his hand for his change; she happily handed it over with his receipt. He went and sat in a booth and ordered coffee, bacon, a biscuit and some cheese. He waited patiently for the woman to bring out his food.

"Can I get you anything else, honey?" the lady asked.

"No thank you, ma'am. Unless that biscuit don't come with butter." Jack replied leaning back and sipping the black coffee she had given him. He thought about how nice it would be to get away from his overachieving father and his over-protective mother, get some peace and quite out in the country with someone new, hopefully. Jack removed his hat and ran a hand through his bark brown hair. He placed his hat on the table and glanced around the place at the accumulation of riff-raff. He shrugged off a fleeting feeling of disappointment; the whole summer was ahead of him. He was bound to have fun at some point.

"So where are you headed, sweetie?" the lady asked placing one hand on her hip. Jack jumped up from his thoughts.

"Well, ma'am. I'm headed to Signal." he answered, shoving a piece of biscuit into his mouth and gently sipping on his black coffee.

"Yeah?" the waitress lifted an eyebrow and briefly looked him over, "Watcha goin' to Signal for? Ain't much up there."

Jack leaned back slightly; he realized she was flirting with him and normally he'd humor her, seeing as he wouldn't be around long, but today he was not in the mood to play along with the girl. Usually it would be an entertaining waste of time: lots of girls flirted with him, he didn't really like any of them, he entertained them, they were happy, and he was gone. He figured he must have something going for him, be it his fit body, his boyish face or his tough exterior was far beyond him. When it came to love, he knew one thing, that he would know who the right one was the second he saw her and he'd be damned if he was gonna just let her walk away.

"The wife and kids are up there. I'm comin'on home from a round-up a bit north of here." he lied, willing the persistent woman to mind her own dam business.

"Oh," he could see the difference, her smile became more superficial and that jaunty air was instantly disbursed, "Well, have a great ride home." She walked away briskly and didn't look back. Jack sighed in relief that she was gone and quickly ate. Once he finished up the last of his meager meal, he put a five on the table. He wasn't really the type to tip, but today he was feeling generous, also he wanted to get on the road. He left without another word said and was soon well on his way to Signal.

Whenever Jack drove for long periods of time he lapsed into deep thought; reminiscing of his childhood, when his daddy broke his legs, when he started doing rodeos. He loved the rodeo. He loved the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the moment, the pretty girls screaming when he fell, and, most of all, the ride. Usually the ride consisted of seven to eight seconds of pure adrenaline rush; you're holding on for your fuckin' life. You're gripping the reins and clenching your thighs on the bull, then, the next second, you fly through the air and land on your ass. Jack smiled when he remembered the summer of 1954. He was ten years old and he was watching his daddy ride the meanest bull in all hell. Jack, or Jackie as they called him then, had all ready participated in the hog run and was dying to get on a bull or a stallion. That was when he decided to become a rodeo cowboy. He had practiced every day for so long and by the time he was seventeen he had a decent name for himself, more among small town rodeos than commercial ones. He was damn good. Although it hurt like hell when he got thrown on his back, he kept getting up and kicking ass. He finally ended up getting summer jobs away from his father and his mother; last summer he came up to Aguirre's sheep-herding. How fucking hard could it be right? Wrong. He was cold constantly and he was lonely with only that jackass to talk to. This year they were going to some place new, Brokeback Mountain.

Jack cursed, flipping on his head-lights and snapping himself out of his daze as rain clouds clapped thunder over his vehicle. The highway was virtually unlit excluding the occasional car here and there, and rain was rather unwelcome when your lights didn't turn on bright. He picked up speed and hoped he'd outrun the storm to Signal. Suddenly he heard a flapping noise and felt the bumpy road beneath him.

"God fuckin' damned piece a shit." he muttered under his breath pulling to the side of the road, he'd gotten a flat. He threw his hat into the passenger's seat and, not wanting it to get sweaty, removed his shirt and tossed it inside as well. He got out of the truck and stared at the flat front tire for a minute. Placing his hands on his hips, he scanned the road ahead and sauntered around the side of the truck to get the spare out of the truck's bed.

About thirty minutes later, Jack was back in the truck covered in a thin coat of sweat. He frowned at the rolled up window, it was far too damn cold to roll it down; but thankfully he was only an hour away. He drove again with the hope of getting there before the storm started.

Jack pulled into Signal just before it started raining. He pulled on his shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it in. He put on his hat and titled it down over his eyes, sliding himself down in the seat. The quiet of the early morning street and the sound of the rain lulled him into relaxation and soon the rodeo cowboy was sound asleep.

_____

"So, you ever done any work up in Signal before?" the trucker asked as they drove down the road towards Signal.

Ennis shifted in his seat, folding his arms across his chest, staring at his knees. "No, sir," he said, "can't say as I have."

The trucker nodded, considering his words. "Well, neither have I, much," he told him. "But from what I have done, I know they got high expectations. Nobody likes a slacker, son. Just remember that."

"Oh, no, sir, I ain't…" Ennis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I ain't a slacker, sir."

"Well, it ain't me you gotta convince, son, it's them," said the truck driver with a slight chuckle. He glanced over at Ennis. "You got a name?" he asked.

"Er, uh… _Ennis,_ sir," Ennis mumbled. He swallowed, looking out the window.

The trucker nodded, watching the road. "Ennis. That's a good name," he said, trying to be friendly.

Ennis nodded, but said nothing. He stared out the window, biting his lip slightly. The sky was getting grey and dreary. He squinted up at the sky out the window, considering the oncoming storm. If he were to get to Signal before it started raining, it would be preferable. Unfortunately, the weather did not seem to have the preferences of Ennis Del Mar in mind, for as soon as he thought that, a spatter of rain fell against the windshield.

"Stupid inclimate weather," the trucker grumbled, turning on his windshield wipers. Ennis looked up at the glass, watching as the deluge got more and more severe, and sighed. So much for his first summer of work. And with his luck, he would probably be sleeping in a knapsack out in the open, looking up at the stars. Not that there would be any stars tonight…

He suddenly wondered if he would still get paid if he died from pneumonia while on the job. He was sure _somebody_ could use the money, even if it was not _him._

A sign came into sight, and Ennis squinted through the rain to read it: Welcome to Signal. He sighed, leaning back in the seat. So they were almost there. It had been a painful few hours of driving in almost complete awkward silence with the trucker. Ennis scuffed the heel of one of his boots quietly against the floor of the eighteen-wheeler, staring fixedly down at his knees. If he had any kind of luck whatever, the truck driver would know where the place of employment was.

The semi truck came to a steady stop in front of a little, wet patch of dirt where a trailer and a single, beat-up old pickup truck sat. Ennis stared out at it for a moment, then looked back at the trucker. The trucker nodded towards it. "That's where the ad says you were s'posed to go," he said. Ennis frowned, looking back at it. He saw no sheep. In fact, he saw no mountain. It seemed a little strange.

"Nobody's here," he mumbled.

"Somebody's there," the trucker said, pointing to the pickup truck.

Ennis frowned deeper. "'Sleep in his truck," he said. "Prob'ly drunk… or sunthin'."

The trucker looked at Ennis. "Well, then, that would give you the upper hand when goin' in to get that sheep-herding job, wouldn't it?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed that Ennis was not getting out of the truck. "You should probably go in, before the employer gets here, so you can show him you ain't a slacker."

"I _ain't_ a slacker," mumbled Ennis, staring out the window. "But I ain't gonna stand in the _rain._" He turned and looked back at the truck driver, who did not look happy. Ennis paused, swallowing. Then he turned back and opened the door. "Rain ain't never bothered me none b'fore," he said, getting out of the truck. He instantly felt the rain pouring down, pattering relentlessly on the brim of his hat, staining his beige jacket, and closed the door of the truck, waving thankfully to the driver, who started up the truck and drove off without another word to Ennis.

Ennis folded his arms, trying to shield himself from the rain, and sighed, looking over at the trailer. He started slowly over towards it, kicking at the moist dust on the ground. "Damn rain," he mumbled. He went up to the door of the trailer, prepared himself, then knocked. "Hullo?" he called. There was no answer. He paused, then knocked again. "Hullo?" he asked. Still no answer. He sighed again, then tried the door handle, only to find that it was locked. "Shit," he said.

Ennis turned away from the door, folding his arms against the rain, and stared out into the empty lot. There was no overhanging roof on the trailer, so the rain blew into Ennis' face, soaking him through mercilessly. He bobbed a bit, trying to withstand the stinging cold, then looked over towards the truck. The young man inside was sleeping soundly… Ennis did not really want to disturb him. He looked up at the sky again. The rain was really coming down now, a miserable, cacophonous downpour. Ennis looked at his feet, fighting himself. If he were not so painfully shy, he told himself, he would get a lot more done in this life.

The problem was, he _was_ painfully shy. And the rain was only getting worse.

He looked up at the truck again, biting his lip. "Shit," he mumbled to himself. "Here goes nothin'." He moved down the steps of the trailer, starting awkwardly towards the truck. He shuffled around to the passenger's side, hesitated, then knocked on the window. "Hullo?" he said. "I, um… it's rainin', an' I was wonderin' if I could…" He stopped. The man inside was still asleep. He knocked again. "Uh, hullo?" he asked. "It's, uh, it's rainin' pretty bad out, an'…"

The man still did not wake up. Ennis looked up at the sky, soaking wet, and let out an indignant huff of breath. "Damnit," he muttered, looking back at the truck. He looked down, took the handle, and pulled. It was unlocked, and swung open easily. He looked up to see if he had woken the driver of the truck, and found that he was, somehow, still sound asleep. Ennis frowned slightly. Heavy sleepers always frightened him a little, because he always had the sneaking suspicion that one day he would come across one who was actually _dead._ He felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach, and instantly pushed the thought from his mind. "He ain't dead," Ennis figured to himself. "He's young as me. He's just _sleepin'_, 's all."

Ennis cleared his throat, hoping to get the young man's attention, but still, nothing. He stared at the young man for a long moment, then at the open door. Then, taking a deep breath, he hopped up into the truck and shut the door behind him.

Ennis sat in the passenger's seat of the beat-up old pickup, his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing himself as far against the side of the truck as he could. It was a lot warmer in here than out there, which was almost a given. He looked over at the driver, who was still asleep, then back out the windshield at the blank wall ahead. If the driver awoke and found him there, he would not be a happy camper. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Ennis was sure that if he died of pneumonia before he even _got_ the job, _nobody_ would be getting any money.

He stared out the windshield for a long moment, then sighed and looked down at his knees. "Shit," he muttered to himself.

_____

_"JACKIE! You come over here right now and you finish eatin' that hot dog you wanted so bad." his mother called him back as he meandered over to see if his dad was up yet.__ the boy called deciding to get a look before he went back to his mom, "I'll be there in one second momma."__He was only twelve; blue eyed and freckled he pulled himself up onto the fence and leaned over. It was his daddy's turn to ride the bull. He told his momma that he was watching his dad ride the bull. She walked up behind him and put her hands on either side of him on the fence. They watched in silence. Four seconds in, John left the bull, seven seconds, the bull came crashing down on his lumbar back. Jack slid into the arena running full speed for his dad. He ran up to him as the rodeo clowns wrangled the bull into the pen.__ Jack called from behind the paramedics. His mom walked up beside him and got into the ambulance with his father.__"You wait right here, Jackie." his mother said closing the door.__Jack turned and walked out of the ring. Tears building up in his eyes.__"Pansy boy," said a taller boy in a green flannel shirt.__ Jack said looking at the ground.__"Why don't chu come over here an make me." Jack turned and punched the boy in the nose and the kid hit the ground, blood spattering everywhere. The boy called somebody's name as Jack kicked him in the stomach several times. Suddenly, he felt a huge hand punch him in the side of his head. Feeling dizzy he toppled easily he turned to see his attacker, a forty something year old man with a beer bottle in his punching hand. The man raised his foot over Jack's ribs…_

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dad!"

"Shut yer mouth."

Jack started awake, panting. He removed his hat and pushed his hair back. He noticed the rain, beating down on the truck and he looked outside to see if Agurrie had come yet. No dice. He contemplated his dream. He had remembered that day so vividly, the dirt in his bloodied ear, the ringing sound. The stupid punk's face leering underneath his blood. He remembered the kid's father breaking eight of his ribs in one fell stomp. He remembered him kicking him over and over; lying there in the dirt behind the arena for over six hours till his mom finally found him. He put his hand to his side pressing on the bones and grimacing. He wondered if his life was going to continue like that. People pushing him to his breaking point, only to beat him back down. He thought back to his first time in a real rodeo. The bull bucking and slamming him into the saddle, the rope cutting into his hands; then he was gone, flying through the air. He fell hard on his back and his breath was knocked out of him. Rodeo clowns came running, girls were screaming. His ma, he could hear her screaming, "NOT MY BABY BOY, TOO!" He rolled over trying to catch his breath, telling himself, "Breathe, just fucking breathe, you bastard." He quickly dragged a hand down his face and let these memories fade into the back of his mind. He was about to go back to sleep when he noticed a presence in the truck. He slowly looked over to his right. There he saw a man about his age.

"Who the fuck're you?!" he yelled, pushing up against his door, "And what'dya think you're-" He was cut short. The door fell open and there went Jack fuckin' Twist, falling backwards, clawing for something to stop him.

_____

"Oh _shit!_" Ennis only had a split second to react as the other young man went tumbling out of the truck. He reached over, his fingers grasping onto the dark material of the young man's coat, just barely holding him in the truck. He gritted his teeth, straining, and, grabbing hold of the jacket with his other hand as well, he was able to drag the young man back into the truck.

Ennis let out a heavy huff of breath, wiping his hands on his own beige canvas jacket, then glanced over at the other young man again, blushing slightly. "Sorry…" he mumbled, looking back at his knees. "I, uh… I knocked, but… you were sleepin' mighty heavy. So I jus'…" He shrugged, indicating the door, his dark eyes flicking over to Jack once before returning to his hands in his lap. "Y'know," he said, quieter.

Ennis swallowed, and his leg started to fidget. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking out the window. "Rainin' something terrible," he noted. He looked back at his hands, pulling a piece of twine out of his pocket and starting to fiddle with it. Then he looked up at Jack. "I assume, since you ain't, y'know…" He indicated out the window. "Kicked me out yet, I c'n… stay."

He looked up at the blank wall outside the windshield again, huddling against the side of the truck, folding his arms, and sighed. "So…" he said, not looking at the other young man. "You, uh… you here fer the job, too?" He cleared his throat again, his leg starting to fidget distractedly again. He looked down at it, and it stopped instantly. Then he went back to staring out the windshield, then looked out the window at the rain pattering against the glass. Of all the days that it could possibly rain, thought Ennis. He sighed.

Then he turned and looked at the other young man. He was well-built, much like Ennis, and almost as tall, if not as tall. The young man had broad shoulders and a friendly, boyish face, trimmed with dark-brown hair, and clear blue eyes that seemed… Ennis searched for the word, and finally found it: _sincere._ He licked his chapped lips, looking back at his knees, then looked up at the young man again. He looked like he was a hard worker, and a good person to have on your side if ever you needed help. He scratched behind his ear, thinking, then looked back up at the young man.

"I, uh…" he said, swallowing, looking down from the young man's face and staring at the empty seat between them instead, "I… saw this in th' paper…" He nodded slightly to himself, then looked up at the young man. "You?" he asked. He turned back away from the young man, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Well, if we're… gunna be workin' together, I guess…" He paused, running his tongue thoughtfully along the inside of his cheek. "I guess we should… y'know…"

Ennis shrugged shyly, his dark eyes returning to the other young man. Then he pulled his hand out from his tightly crossed arms and offered it to the other young man with a tight, polite smile. "I'm… Ennis."

_____

Jack felt the strong hands pulling him back into the truck. He checked his hat and slammed the door shut, sighing.

"Thanks for that," he said looking at the young man, much more calm now, "This piece a shit truck's barely stayin' together." Jack glanced outside at the pouring rain, hoping it would clear so he could stretch his legs. He shrugged his shoulders back so that the coat fell into it's original spot, shaking his hat off into the floorboard, he shook his head in declination, "It's fine, pardner. I was jus'…startled." He glanced at the young man again; he couldn't be but the same age. Although the other man looked slightly more… weathered. Then again, Jack thought to himself, blue eyes don't make you look any tougher.

Jack smiled and turned towards the stranger, "I _do_ sleep like a log, huh?" He laughed more to himself than aloud, musing this fact. He can imagine this poor guy standing out there. Hell, he'd have just got in the truck too. He scratched behind his ear and let his hands fall to his lap where he let them rub his knees.

"Yeah, I got here just before it started," Jack crack his neck and his back and rubbing his hands together, "I was worried I would have to explain to an officer why this damned thing doesn't have head lights." He looked out the window and cleared his throat hoping he didn't sound awkward. He turned once the man started talking again. "Oh no, you c'n stay, friend. I'm not too uppity to offer a li'l shelter from a downpour. 'Sides, by the looks o' it, we're the only ones goin' in fer the spots." He stared at his hands, picking at one of his nails that was hanging loose.

Jack pulled the nail off and put his hands in his pocket so as to stop messing with the damn things. He looked at the man as he chatted then looked away. "Yeah. I… uh… came up here las' year. I got stuck with some city boy, what couldn't do shit." He tapped the inside of the truck with his boot and scratched his other ear. He briefly glared angrily at the rain on his windshield, then decided that it wasn't the rain's fault and glared at the sky. He coughed and went to looking for a cigarette. He patted all of the pockets of his pants, checked his shirt pocket, and searched his jacket pocket. No dice; he sat silently, wishing he could find a smoke.

Jack gave the man a brief once over and paused only on his face to assess character. The man was the tiniest bit taller than he was and Jack couldn't help but notice his gangly, but strong, frame was boxed in with broad shoulders. He seemed to have a good deal of upper body strength, seeing as he pulled Jack, a good one-hundred sixty-five pounds, back into the truck. Jack lingered at his face; he looked like he had been worked too hard, but he some how managed to still look his age, if not a little bit older. Jack noticed that the man seemed very nervous yet he wasn't going anywhere, he was still waiting in here. Guess he was determined; Jack liked that in a person.

"Like I said, I worked here las' summer, but I found out about this li'l deal through the Farm and Ranch Employment office, they said it would be a good start… an' here I am tryin' to make some more money to keep this damned truck runnin'." Jack swallowed and rubbed his shoulder, listening to the man suggesting to get to know each other. Jack was nodding more to himself than in agreement, staring off into space as the man to his right kept talking.

"Well, Ennis." Jack reached over and took his hand in a rough handshake, "I'm Jack. Jack Twist." He lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "Your parents stop at Ennis?" he asked letting go of Ennis' hand and pulling his back over onto his side of the truck. He glanced at the glove compartment, "'Scuse me." he said reaching over and opening the glove compartment, his hand awkwardly close to Ennis' legs. He pulled out a pack of smokes and shut it, pulling a lighter from the floorboard. He lit a cigarette and offered the pack and lighter to Ennis. "My momma always said these would be the death a me." He blew a small stream of smoke out of his mouth and tapped the ash into the floorboard.

Jack immediately felt himself calm down. He hadn't the slightest idea why he had been so damned nervous in the first place. He inhaled another deep breath of relaxing nicotine and sighed. "You do much cowboyin' in your day?" Jack asked, "I've been a ranch hand for awhile, but rodeoin' is what I really do fer a livin'. How about you?" Jack pulled another drag on the cigarette and let it seep slowly out of his nose. "You rodeo much?" Jack ran his tongue over his lips and tapped the ash again. Ennis didn't really look like the rodeo type, but you could be surprised by some of the things that people do. For example, Jack thought, his daddy didn't look like the rodeo type but he sure rode the bulls in his day. He smoked the last two puffs on the cigarette and put the end out on the console. He flicked the butt into the floorboard with the ash.

"I'll be a foot deep in the stuff before I die." Jack said with a sharp laugh pushing some of the ashes around with the heel of his boot. He picked up the pack from the space between them. He looked at the last three. He pulled another out, "You're welcome to one a those last two. I've been meaning to buy some more a the damned things, but I just never seem to get around to it. Always runnin' here an' there." Jack glanced out of the window, searching for some sign of Aguirre. He saw nothing, but he stared out anyways. The rain kept pouring down in great big sheets, waves and waves of it.

Jack turned on the radio, that Johnny Cash song everyone liked was on, Ring of Fire. He turned the volume down low and tapped his foot along with the music. It was catchy, he could see why so many people liked it. He hummed along and drummed his hands on the steering wheel. He paused, glancing over at Ennis. The song went off and was replaced with a pop hit and Jack turned it off, scowling at the annoying woman's voice. He stared at his knees. "So… uh… What about your folks? Mine live up in Lightning Flats. They got a ranch up there. I would be helping them, but you know how those things go. My dad… he's a bit too much for me. Never really had too much in common. 'Scept, rodeoin' and even that wasn't enough to keep us eye ta eye. 'Specially after he went and got paralysed when I was… what? Twelve. Yeah. One of the main reasons my momma never wanted me ta go into rodeoin'. Thought fer shore I'd get myself killed."

Jack ran his tongue around in his mouth and finally lit the cigarette. He leaned back and blew out a ring of smoke and rubbed his face with his hand. He cleared his throat and tapped more ash onto the floor. Jack wasn't liking the awkwardness very much, he _would_ have to spend the whole summer with this guy; he wished that the silence between them would dissipate like vapour. He pondered the situation and blushed as his stomach growled loudly.

"Aheh. I guess I should've eaten before I came," he glanced at Ennis. "You wanna get something to eat after this?" Jack asked watching Ennis in his peripheral vision. Just as he asked he heard the rumbling of a car pulling into the drive.

"Either that's Aguirre or we got some competition." Jack joked, peering out into the rainy parking lot. He saw Aguirre's familiar, heavyset frame walking, almost hobbling, towards the trailer. Jack nudged Ennis' shoulder.

"Hey, we should go inside. Aguirre doesn't like ta wait. Last time I made him wait, two minutes fer his sheep, I was late two minutes. He flipped his lid on me." Jack lifted himself up and opened the door.

"Come on, bud."

_____

Ennis chuckled when the young man - Jack Twist, he had called himself - pointed out his heavy sleeping habits, watching him as he laughed. There was something youthful and carefree about his laughter, almost as if the hand of tragedy had never struck him; he was a pampered child, living in a dream. But Ennis knew that could not be true. Everyone had had their share of tragedy, and some people had had more than just their share. Ennis pushed the thought from his mind as he listened to Jack's history, staring at his hands on his knees. Then, when Jack offered his hand, Ennis looked over at it, hesitant, and then took his hand in a steady handshake and offered a tight smile. Jack's handshake was rough, practiced. It was reassuring.

"Del Mar," Ennis said in response to Jack's question. It was simple, but it was the answer he was looking for.

He let go of Jack's hand, and was a bit taken aback when Jack reached over him, but was relieved to see that it was only to get into the glove compartment to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He almost sighed in relief, but held it back. He did not want to be too suspicious or unkind to this still-semi-stranger. He glanced over at Jack, watching him taking out a cigarette and lighting up. Ennis had never been a big smoker, but when Jack offered him the pack of smokes, he felt obliged to take one. He put the cigarette in his mouth, took the lighter from Jack with a nod of thanks, and lit up, himself. He took the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling the smoke, then licked his bottom lip thoughtfully with the tip of his tongue.

"No, no," he said haltingly, "ain't never… done much rodeoin', m'self." He shook his head, looking at the cigarette in his hand, then took another drag of it, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. "Ain't really… my thing." He glanced over at Jack, then looked down into his floorboards when he mentioned being a foot deep in cigarette butts by the time he died, and a small smile came to his face. Then he shook his head at Jack's offer of another cigarette, indicating his own, which was still only half-finished. "I'm good, thanks," he mumbled with a quick half-smile.

He sighed when Jack asked about his parents. "I ain't… much for talkin' 'bout my parents," he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. He looked down at the cigarette as he exhaled smoke. "I'm from ranch people," he said, looking back out the window. He returned the cigarette to his mouth. "I _was,_" he corrected himself. He paused. "They, uh… they was drivin', n'…" He looked out the windshield at the blank wall, watching the rain pattering against the windshield. "They run themselves off," he mumbled. He blew out smoke, then took another meditative drag of the cigarette. "One curve in the road in forty-three miles, n' they miss it. Killed 'em both." He glanced over at Jack, then back out the window, exhaling smoke. "Bank took the ranch. Brother and sister raised me, mostly."

Ennis glanced over at Jack's suggestion of something to eat, hesitated, and then shrugged. "Sorta hungry m'self, I guess," he mumbled. He took a drag of his cigarette, then looked down at the finished stub with a frown. He glanced over at Jack again, then down at his floorboards, and tossed his filter down there with the rest of Jack's.

Ennis looked up as soon as he saw the headlights approaching. He glanced over at Jack, and nodded in agreement when he heard the suggestion of getting out before it upset Aguirre's nerves. He did not want to start his first big endeavour off on the wrong foot. He let himself out of the truck, making sure to shut the door securely behind him, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, keeping his head down, his dark eyes locked resolutely on what was directly in front of him, as he followed Jack and Aguirre into the trailer. He hunched his shoulders against the rain, frowning as it pattered against the brim of his hat. He hoped it would not warp the material. He shifted between feet nervously as Aguirre unlocked the trailer, then thankfully went inside after Aguirre and Jack once the door was open.


	3. Chapter Two

The inside of the trailer was dry, but that was about all it had going for it. Ennis looked around. The place was small, cramped, and had an unfriendly, business-like air about it. He looked over as Aguirre took his seat behind his desk and folded his hands across his stomach, staring at the two boys before him with a scowl that said he did not particularly like what he saw. Aguirre looked each boy up and down once before leaning forward in his desk to address them.

"Forest Service got designated campsites on the allotments," he said, straight to business. "Them camps can be three, four miles away from where we pasture the woollies. Bad predator loss if there's nobody lookin' after 'em at night." He looked at each boy in turn. "Now what I want," he said, looking specifically at Ennis, "is a camp tender in the main camp where the Forest Service says." Ennis nodded. The job sounded simple enough for him to handle. Then Aguirre turned to Jack.

"The harder," he said, looking specifically at Jack, "pitch a pup tent on the Q.T. with the sheep, and he's goin' to _sleep_ there. Eat your supper, breakfast in camp, but you _sleep_ with the sheep, hundred percent, _no fire,_ don't leave no sign. You roll up that tent every mornin' case Forest Service snoops around." Just then, the phone rang. Aguirre looked over at it with a deep frown, then picked it up, leaning back in his chair. He listened for a moment, his frown deepening. "Yeah?" he said. "No. No. Not on your fuckin' life." He hung up the phone, paused, then looked back at the two boys. "You got your dogs, your thirty-thirty, _sleep there._"

He looked over at Jack with a scowl. "Last year I had goddamn near twenty-five percent loss. I don't want that again." He turned to Ennis then. "You," he said. Ennis looked up, attentive. Aguirre indicated for him to come closer, which Ennis did. Aguirre pointed at him. "Fridays at noon be down at the bridge with your grocery list and mules. Somebody with supplies will be there at the pickup." Aguirre reached down and picked up a cheap watch, which he tossed to Ennis. Ennis caught the watch awkwardly and looked down at it for a moment before looking back up at Aguirre, taking a few steps back so he would be even with Jack again. He did not want to draw attention to himself.

Aguirre leaned back in his seat, staring at the two boys. "Tomorrow mornin' we'll truck you up to the jump-off," he told them. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his desk, knocked one out, stuck it in his mouth, then pulled out a lighter and lit up. Then he picked up the phone. Ennis shifted uncomfortably between feet, watching him, waiting for further instructions. Aguirre paused, holding the phone, then scowled up at the two boys.

Ennis raised his eyebrows, then turned, touching Jack lightly on the arm. "C'mon," he said. "We should git."

_____

"Ennis Del Mar?" Jack thoughtfully put the name to memory. He eased more smoke out of his lips. He stared ahead, glancing briefly at Ennis every now and again. He laughed a bit at Ennis' apparent dislike of rodeoin'; "Guess it takes a certain kind. I know that, boy." He mused this quietly, and offered the second to last cigarette.

"Suit yerself," he said at Ennis' decline, "I gotta get some more a these damned things." He quietly listened to Ennis' story about his parents, "Sorry about yer folks, bud. Good thing yer brother an sister done though. They seem to do a fine job." Jack smiled at his new friend's hesitancy, that'd be well and done by the end of the summer. Jack was too much of an extrovert to leave Ennis in his protective shell. He pondered where to go that was cheap enough. He silently counted out his money to the side, eleven dollars. He quietly pushed it back into his pocket; it was nice to know you were worth something, even if it was a summer of herding and eleven dollars. He glanced out the window, hoping he could convince Aguirre to give them some money. He grit his teeth, Aguirre would have them trucked off in the morning to the drop-off; where we're they spending the night?

Aguirre's car pulled up in the rain and Jack was out of the truck following him into the dinky little hovel. He moved his shoulders in a backwards circular motion and cleared his throat, for some reason or another, he always felt like he was in trouble ever time he was subjected to Aguirre's tiny little office space. Jack kept quiet, he found Aguirre liked that best, brief nods and almost silent 'yesir's was all he wanted. He paused only to yell at someone on the phone, probably his wife or his mother or someone like that. Jack forced back his boyish laugh with a quiet cough. He listened to Aguirre tell Ennis about the quarter loss last year, Jack turned his head down with a bit of a grimace. He hated being patronized in front of his new partner. Made him feel like such a screw up, he couldn't damn well control the weather and here was Aguirre making it seem like he could've stopped it all with the wave of his hand. Just like everyone else, father, mother, ex-girlfriends, he was never good enough for them; there was always something wrong with him. He didn't ride long enough, he wasn't careful enough, he was taking the relationship too slow, he was taking the relationship too fast, he was killing the damned sheep with his ability to control the damned weather… His thoughts trailed off and he just let it slip. This was going to require some whiskey… lots and lots of whiskey.

Jack quickly picked up his feet when Ennis touched his arm. He followed him to the door and turned back.

"Ah, Aguirre. You know how it is. I ain't got but eleven bucks to my name. And we don't leave till tomorrow… I was jus wonderin'-" He was cut off by Aguirre reaching into his wallet and throwing a twenty dollar bill on the floor in front of his desk. Jack hesitated, he knew Aguirre loved the fact that he'd be up there picking money off the floor. Jack debated leaving, but the twenty was too much, he walked over, hat in hand, and picked up the bill. He crammed it into his pocket and turned to leave.

"Give this to that other nobody out there." Aguirre threw another twenty on the ground. Jack grabbed that one too and briskly walked out of the trailer and down the rickety wooden stairs. He stepped onto the dirt, which had quickly turned into a slush of red and brown mud, and fumbled for one of his last two cigarettes.

"I better buy some more afore we go." Jack pulled one out and lit it. He dug in his pocket and handed Ennis his twenty, "Mine's going towards three bottles of whiskey and a carton of cigarettes." He grinned sheepishly, emitting that boyish laugh again. He kicked a little mud away from him and Ennis and glanced up at the other man's face.

"Only problem is whereabouts I'm gunna be sleepin' tonight." Jack glanced at his beat-up truck, "Well, let's get some food in any case." Jack walked hurriedly led Ennis down the street to a small diner and waltzed in like he owned the place. He picked a booth near a window and sat down. He looked around a minute, "I got this tab, bud. Just watch this." Jack stood up and walked over to a waitress, he leaned against the counter and seemed to talk with an air of superiority to the poor girl. Beyond that, she loved it; he led her over to the booth.

"Francine this is Ennis. Ennis this is Francine." Jack gave Ennis a sidelong smirk, indicating he had a plan. This quickly revealed itself when Jack reached towards his pocket to pull out money.

"Oh don't ya'll worry. Whatever you want is on the house. Jack don't come by too often, but when he does, I'm sure to take care of him!" Jack pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger and Francine giggled and pulled out her order pad, "The usual for Jack…" she trailed off writing down his order, "Aaaaaaannnnd, what would you like?" She smiled sweetly at Ennis jotting down his order. "Alrighty, folks. I'll have those meals up in a jiffy." She touched Jack softly on the cheek and scurried off to get their order.

Jack glanced at Ennis and laughed, "Don't worry. I helped rebuild their shed after a big storm last year. She took a likin' to me and has been a bit infatuated ever since." He suddenly felt terrible for using the girl's crush to get him and Ennis a free meal, "If someone's offering a free meal," he smiled and chuckled nervously a bit, "I'm taking it." He glanced up by the counter where Francine wiggled her fingers in the semblance of a seductive wave. Jack nodded and turned back to Ennis, "So, you have a girl back home?" He glanced up at Francine again, who had busied herself re-stocking condiments, and back at the table.

"I haven't really been able to settle down yet," Jack tapped his ashes into an ashtray that was resting on the table. Half of the cigarette fell into the tray and crumbled, "Nah… I just go with the flow. I think that I'll know the girl the second I see her, you know? It'll just hit me. I'll say, 'I wanna spend my life with you.' Was that how it was for you?" He glanced at Ennis and back down at the table, laughing nervously. "Sorry, I can be a bit…" He trailed off searching for the right words.

Francine walked up and placed their plates down, "Ya'll two eat up!" She said with a smile, turning from the men. She walked back to the counter. Jack ate in silence. He kept thinking how gracious Ennis must be for him to finally shut his trap. All he did the whole time since they met was talk, talk, talk. He pushed around his food with his fork and took a sip of the coffee Francine had just poured. He continued eating, hoping that Ennis would break the silence, cause he sure was damn tired of the sound of his own voice.

After they had finished eating, Jack stood up and dropped two dollars on the table for tip. He waved bye to Francine and walked out into the drizzle.

"I'm gonna buy cigarettes and whiskey." Jack threw his thumb in the direction opposite that of Aguirre's trailer, "You comin' with?" He quickly walked down the sidewalk twelve feet to a general store, he walked in and picked up three bottles of cheap, strong whiskey. He set those on the counter and turned around to grab a carton of Marlboros. He pulled out the remainder of his money.

"Twenty-eight dollars and sixty-three cents." The man behind the counter drawled. Jack handed him his last twenty-nine dollars and waited patiently for the change. He took it and dumped it into his pocket. He grabbed the paper bag and walked out of the store. He walked down to the parking lot before turning to Ennis. He looked up at the dwindling rain and considered his night's lodging.

"Well, I'm going to be sleeping in my truck. Same as before," He laughed, "This time I'll prolly lock the doors though." He smiled and glanced at Ennis, "You're welcome to sleep in the truck there if you want to hang onto your money." He pulled his collar up around his neck. He watched Ennis with a bit of uneasiness. He wasn't sure why, he just felt like it was a bad idea to ask so new a friend if he'd like to share such close lodgings.

"That is, unless you have a better idea."

_____

Ennis glanced rather sheepishly down at the twenty as it was handed to him. It was a blessing that Jack was so extroverted; Ennis would never have had the guts to ask Aguirre for money. The only money Ennis had to his name was two fives in a tin can back home, the money he and Alma had scraped together towards buying a house of their own. He looked up at Jack's mention of whiskey and cigarettes, and a slight, shy grin quirked at the corner of his mouth. "I'd be happy to pay fer part," he said. "Sounds good t' me."

He followed Jack to the diner, letting himself in after the Jack, and looked around the place. It was quaint, and had a pleasant atmosphere. He kept his mouth shut as Jack led him to a booth seat and claimed the tab. It made Ennis pause when Jack called him 'bud', but he just dismissed it as the cowboy's naturally amiable nature. Just because Ennis was antisocial did not mean the rest of the world had to be.

He watched in interest as Jack went over to the girl behind the counter and began to work his magic, then looked down at his hands as Jack began to lead the girl over. Hopefully Jack would not try to use him as a prop for the girl's affections; he already had enough trouble being social and affectionate towards the one woman in his life, without trying to do it for others.

But Jack was only interested in introducing the girl to him, Francine, he called her, and explaining the situation. Ennis quickly wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, then offered Francine a tight smile and a polite nod. When she asked for his order, he hesitated, then haltingly told her what he wanted to eat, ending his order with another forced, small smile.

Once he was done ordering and Francine had walked off with the orders, Ennis turned and looked at Jack, watching as he tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray. "Mighty nice a you," he mumbled, nodding. Then he bit his lip, thoughtful. "I was… never much of a handyman, myself," he said, looking down at his hands, folded on the table. "Too clumsy." Then he chuckled, looking back up at Jack. "I never say no to a free meal," he agreed. "Feel… if they wanna give it… well, it would be mighty _rude_ a me t' decline."

The smile remained on his face as he sighed and looked out the window. "Got me a girl," he said, nodding. "Back home. Alma Beers. Sweetest li'l girl you ever seen." He looked back at Jack, then at his folded hands. "We's gonna be married in th' Fall," he said. "After this herdin' bit… we's gonna settle down. House n' all."

He nodded, listening to Jack's explanation of his relationships, and almost grinned. "Sounds like you ain't quite sure what you're lookin' for, yet," he said with a half-grin, looking up at Jack. Then he looked back at his hands. "Me n' Alma… we jus'… met once, n' she took a likin' t' me… Mean, no one else really ever did… not that social, n' all…" He chuckled sheepishly, his dark eyes flicking to Jack, then up to Francine as she put their plates in front of them. "Thank you, ma'am," he said with a polite nod.

Ennis turned back to his food, picking up a fork and starting to prod at his order shyly. He had never been big on eating with others, as he was always self-conscious about people watching him eat, but he pushed the thought aside and started on his meal. Now that it came to it, he was hungry, after all, having eaten almost nothing today and yesterday, both. Then he shook his head, still thinking on Jack's question. "Well, we got pretty close, n'… we jus' decided t' get married." He shrugged, poking at his food. "'S all there was to it," he mumbled.

When he and Jack had finished, Ennis got up from the table. He noticed Jack toss down two dollars on the table and instantly wanted to contribute, but then remembered that the only bill he had was the twenty, and, with a guilty blush, he looked at his feet and followed Jack into the street. At Jack's mention of buying the cigarettes and whiskey he had talked of earlier, Ennis looked up. "Sure," he answered, shrugging slightly.

Ennis squinted up at the darkening sky, where the rain had all but stopped by now. He was glad of it, too. The rain was one of the few things that Ennis would admit his dislike to in this life. He followed Jack to the convenience store, loitering outside with his hands in his pockets as Jack went inside to make his purchase. He took the twenty from his pocket and looked at it. The more valiant side of him told him to hold onto it and put it in the can when he got home, towards the house fund, but common sense told him that he would probably end up spending it before long, and probably on the same things Jack was spending his on.

Ennis frowned at himself, then stuffed the bill back in his pocket as Jack emerged from the convenience store. His dark eyes instantly flicked to Jack's purchase, and he looked away, stopping himself from staring. Jack might get the wrong idea if Ennis seemed too interested. He listened in interest as Jack spoke about sleeping in his truck, and offered a quick chuckle when he mentioned locking the doors. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he mumbled.

Suddenly, with Jack's mention of sleep, Ennis realized that he would be spending the twenty quicker than he thought. He looked up, scanning the street for a motel of some kind. "I think," he said, looking past Jack to see if there was any kind of inn in sight. He paused, frowning. "Well, shit," he mumbled. "There ain't no motels in Signal?" He turned around, looking the other way, squinting to see if he could see a sign in the distance offering shelter, but he saw nothing either way.

Ennis turned back to Jack, frowning. "Well, shit," he repeated. Then he shrugged, crossing his arms and looking at his feet. "I can sleep in th' bed a th' truck," he mumbled. "If you don't mind, that is…" He looked up at the sky with an apprehensive sigh. "Does look mighty like rain, though," he added.

He paused, then looked back at Jack with an awkward, somewhat uncomfortable look on his face. "Well," he said slowly, "I ain't got any in'trest in doin' nothin' _unusual_…" He scuffed his boot against the sidewalk, looking back down at his feet. "An'… I assume you ain't got no in'trest in doin' nothin'… _question'ble_…" He cleared his throat, paused, and then looked back up at Jack. "I'd be mighty thankful iffin I could stay a night in yer truck," he said, tight-mouthed.

Ennis looked at the ground again, then the slightest grin quirked at the corner of his mouth. "We c'n… get t' know each other…" he suggested with a slight shrug. "Drinkin' n'… talkin'… an' such." He looked up at the whiskey Jack held in his hand. "Jus' one bottle, if you want," he added quickly. "An' I would be happy t' pay fer part… iffin you want." He looked quickly back down at his feet. "Jus'… sayin'," he added. "Don' hafta listen t' me."

_____

"Naw, Like I said, don't worry about it," Jack mentioned, leaning against the side of the truck, "If I can't share this piece a junk, then I'm a damn greedy person. 'Sides, the only reason to be locking them doors is that three people in that thing is a bit much." Jack chuckled and glanced around for a motel too, but more briefly, he wasn't too interested, seeing as he had just spent his last dollars on booze and smokes. "Nobody wants to stay in Signal." Jack told him, his face falling out of his usual grin as he looked down at his boots. The worn tattered things had been everywhere with him. He always wore them, them and his hat.

Ennis offered to sleep in the bed of the truck, snapping Jack out of his meditative silence. He laughed loudly, "Boy, you don't have to sleep in the bed. You do, you'll prolly drown, what with all this rainin' an such." He smiled his friendly, lop-sided smile and hit him softly on the arm. "Like I said, I ain't got no problem sharin' my truck with someone who needs it."

He lit the last cigarette in his first pack and gave Ennis a confused, but slightly amused look when he stated his motives. Jack wasn't sure what the cowboy had in mind, but 'questionable' had an interesting ring to it. 'Questionable' sounded fun. "Not unless you consider drinkin' whiskey, smokin' cigarettes and talkin' 'questionable'." Jack gave him a very serious look, staring him square in the eyes, "But I might go to sleep at some point." He broke into a big grin again, "That's when you really gotta watch out." He chuckled, smiling away and glancing at Ennis and still wondering what he could have meant by 'questionable'. He let his thoughts trail off. Quickly, he forced himself to stop considering this, pulling his attention back to reality.

"Course you can. We'll get drunk and tell manly stories about bustin' our asses and… shootin' coyotes." Jack offered another smile. He started to wonder if Ennis was tempted to hit him, just to keep him from smiling again. Jack shrugged it off as paranoia and continued sharing his happy-go-lucky grin. It widened into a full beam when Ennis suggested drinkin'. He was finally loosening up, didn't take a long time when you were as friendly as Jack.

"Now your talkin'," Jack nodded his head, "We can drink as much as we want, you buy the next time and we'll be square." Jack walked back around to the driver's side of the truck and climbed in, shutting the door behind him. He glanced at Ennis and smiled, locking the door and snickering. He set the bag on the floor and pulled out one of the bottles of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. "This is the life," he said half sarcastically. He cracked the seal on the whiskey, got down a good chug, and passed it to Ennis.

"Whoo…" he exhaled slightly, "That was good." He kicked back and crossed his feet in the floorboard. He calmly extended his hand for the bottle again.

"So what would you say your official line of work is?" Jack asked taking another hearty swig. He rubbed the back of his neck and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth.

"I always considered myself a rodeo boy. You?" Jack passed him the bottle again

They talked and talked. Laughed at each other's stories. Made a few bets, like who would be the first to complain, Jack said he was sure he would. And before he knew it the bottle had gone from full to three quarters empty, he had smoked half of his new pack and his lighter was out. He threw it into the floorboard with the rest of his trash and clumsily reached through the darkness towards the glove compartment.

"Fuggin… lighters gun out. Gunna jus gimme a new un." He stretched over and rest his hand on something rough. Through the whiskey fog he figured out that it was Ennis' leg. "SHIT!" he retracted his hand immediately, as if he touched a stove, "Surry bout tha, I wus… jus… tryin ta get a lighter an…" He trailed off trying to explain himself and finding it very hard to do so.

_____

Ennis took the bottle as Jack passed it to him, taking a healthy swig of the liquor and fighting back a bit of a grimace. The brand Jack bought was some powerful stuff, but he was not about to complain; after all, it was a free drink, and he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly if the gift horse was liquor. He offered a tight smile to Jack and passed the bottle back to him when Jack reached for it.

"I, uh…" Ennis had to think about the question for a moment, looking down at his knees as he thought. "Well, I'm from ranch people, but…" He looked up, watching Jack take a swig of the whiskey. "I'm more of an anything man, really," he mumbled. He shrugged, looking away again. "Never really found one real profession what suited me," he said, scuffing his boot slightly against the floorboards of the truck. "Always… found sunthin' about it I just dun din' like."

He looked up as Jack passed him the bottle again, nodding as he explained how he considered himself a rodeo boy. He took a swig of whiskey, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I, uh," he said, wetting his lips nervously, "I never was much of a rodeo boy, m'self. Tried it once er twice… never really got the feel of it."

Ennis paused, then took another swig of the bottle and laid it down on the seat between them. "I'd do it if I had the entry fee in m' pocket," he said, shaking his head slightly, "but it was only a one-time thing. Got tired of it pretty quick. Kinda my thing… never stay in one job too long." He grinned sheepishly. "Gonna stick this one out all summer," he assured Jack, lifting his eyes to the other man. "Gonna stay up on that there mountain 'till Aguirre up n' pays me t' get the hell off."

Ennis had never been much of a drinker, but with Jack, he found he was so distracted trading stories about past experiences, joking, laughing, and making dumb bets that, before he knew it, his mind was fuzzy with the haze of whiskey, and his speech and motor functions had slowed to a dragging drawl. The whiskey bottle was almost finished when he placed it back on the seat between them this time.

Ennis grinned at Jack with a naïve, lopsided smile, resting his elbow against the windowsill. "Yer'unna be a foot deep 'n that fore y'die," he slurred, repeating Jack's words from earlier. He chuckled languidly, looking away and stifling a slight hiccup, then looked back at Jack. "Need a new lighter," he mumbled, nodding to himself, as if his wisdom were sage, otherwise unknown information. "That'un dun shit out on ya."

He nodded, sniffing slightly, as Jack tossed his lighter to the floor and began to reach over Ennis towards the glove compartment to retrieve another one. Ennis knew he kept his smokes and things in there from earlier, so he had no problem with Jack leaning over him to get to it. He wavered slightly, watching as Jack reached over. It took Ennis a moment to realize that it was not the glove compartment Jack's hand rested on, but his leg.

He started, looking over at Jack as Jack retracted his hand and tried to make some kind of garbled excuse as to why he had done it, but his words trailed off. Ennis stared at him for a long moment, trying to focus on the other man's face. "'S okay," he mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "'S… no big deal."

Ennis looked up at Jack again, watching his face. "'S…" he began again, but his statement trailed off. He stared at Jack for another long moment, then leaned forward, almost falling over himself as he pressed his lips to Jack's, or the corner of Jack's, not quite hitting his target in his hazy manoeuvre. He closed his eyes, letting his lips drift away from Jack's, then opened them, looking up into Jack's face.

Suddenly, a slight sense of self-reprimand crossed his face, and he leaned back a bit, shocked at himself. "I…" he tried to explain, but there was really nothing to say. He swallowed, looking back at Jack, his mouth hanging slightly open, his mind still foggy with liquor. He shut his mouth, the tip of his tongue flashing out to wet his dry lips, and cleared his throat. "…Sorry," he mumbled.

_____

"Well, that's good," Jack nodded at Ennis' conformation of his diligence, "Wouldn't want my camp tender high-tailin' it come mid summer." he grinned again, taking another guzzle of the throat scorching liquor and exhaling as though he were breathing fire.

Jack's coherency seemed to be directly gauged by the whiskey bottle; as it drew closer to empty, his mental functioning followed suit. He cursed the darkness and his current lack of hand-eye coordination as he pulled himself fully away from Ennis. If this summer wasn't gonna be a hell of awkward… His thought was cut short by the soft brush of lips followed by the prickly sensation of day old stubble. He couldn't think.

"I-…" He paused, "You-…" Ennis' quiet apology was lost on Jack. He shook his head very slowly, "S'all right…" He trailed off, leaning forward ever so slightly. Reaching out with his left hand, he brushed the side of Ennis' face and slid his hand into the other man's short wavy hair just underneath his hat. He gently pulled him forward until their faces were inches apart, "… Here." Jack licked his lips briefly before pressing them to Ennis'. He closed his eyes and tenderly grazed the soft parted lips with his own. He eased away, glanced up and down Ennis' face, and replaced his lips. He moved his other hand to the back of Ennis' neck and nuzzled his cheek lightly with his warm lips.

"Juss…" Jack mumbled something incomprehensible into Ennis' ear, letting his hand fell back to Ennis' thigh. "Ah… ain't never…" Ennis gradually felt heavier and heavier and, also gradually, Jack felt a certain warm fuzziness erupt somewhere between his ears as any remaining light slowly crept into a pervading darkness.

_____

Ennis' brow furrowed slightly as Jack waved off his mumbled apology, and the expression turned to one more of surprise as the other man took Ennis' face into his hands and brought Ennis' lips to his. He could feel the soft, warm brush of Jack's clean-shaven skin against his as Jack brushed Ennis' lips with his own, and then brought them together for a real kiss. Ennis' closed his eyes as he and Jack kissed, feeling the other cowboy's hands gently entwining in his honey hair, and exhaled in a kind of contented satisfaction as he felt Jack's lips brushing his cheek.

He opened his mouth to say something, his eyes fluttering unevenly open, but then a warm, foggy darkness began to spread through his brain, and he closed his mouth, his eyes closing again as he felt his heavy head fall onto Jack's sturdy shoulder, and then he was out.


	4. Chapter Three

Jack blinked himself awake, squinting against the blinding sunlight. He put his left hand to his aching head and rested it back against whatever the hell was to his right. He moved slightly into a more comfortable position, tilting his hat down and shifting closer to the warm entity that was resting on his right shoulder.

He breathed in a strong smell of cowhide and sawdust mixed with sweet grass and… whiskey? Fear suddenly wracked his fuzzy brain, wasn't that boy Ennis in his truck…? To his... His eyes flung open and He pushed his hat back as he scrambled away towards the left side of the truck, letting the other man slump down onto the seat.

"Shit!" Jack cursed, straightening his coat and looking at the empty whiskey bottle on the floor. He looked over at the slowly awakening Ennis.

"What the hell're you doin' all over me, boy?!" He asked more shock and confusion in his voice than anger. He pressed another hand against his head trying to remember what happened last night. He vaguely recalled his lighter running out, reaching for a new one and accidentally touching Ennis' leg. Even hazier, he remembered Ennis leaning over, brushing his lips against his own, and… Then Jack had… Helped him? Did he dream all this?! He sure as hell wasn't about to ask point blank. He looked over at Ennis, wearily.

"I-… Did we-…" he thought how to phrase this as delicately as possible, "We didn't… well… you know, we didn't… kiss did we?" Jack whispered the last three words so softly, he wasn't sure the newly awoken Ennis had heard him.

"I mean… I don't… rightly remember all that well…" Jack frowned to himself, glancing again over at Ennis, then back to the floorboard. He heard a truck pulling up to the parking lot, the gravel rattling beneath it. He looked over to Ennis again.

"Let's just… forget about this. All right, Cowboy?" Jack offered another comforting, friendly smile and elbowed Ennis gently in the rib cage saying, "Gotta wake up now, either way. Looks like the truck is here." Jack stepped out of his own truck, breathing in the sweet Wyoming air, and tried to push some rather uncomfortable feelings out of his body and mind. Once Ennis was out of his truck, he grabbed his stuff up and locked the old thing up nice and tight.

"You two ready to go?" the truck driver asked them, not getting out of his truck. Jack nodded and jumped into the back of the truck settling into the corner of its bed and lighting a cigarette.

"C'mon, cowboy. We ain't got time to waste." He grinned once more, bearing all his shiny, white teeth and tapping the ashes into the parking lot.

_____

Ennis woke up the following morning when the warm object his head was resting on suddenly moved. His eyes shot open, and he squinted into the sunlight, shaking his head, trying to understand the frantic male shouting that was being apparently directed at him. "What?! What?" he exclaimed, shutting his eyes against the morning sun and putting his head in his hands. It hurt like the devil, and his tongue was thick and fuzzy. "What?" he asked again, scrubbing at his face with his bare hands. He sniffed, running the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth and nose, and coughed. "Mm," he groaned. "It's mornin'."

He rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand, when he suddenly looked over and saw Jack. Apparently it had been he who had been doing the frantic shouting, and he was now forming legible sentences, and making seemingly bizarre inquiries of Ennis. The specific question took Ennis by surprise. What was he doing all over Jack? He pulled his hand away from his face, frowning deeply in confusion. "I…" he started, then stopped, looking away, his dark eyes widening. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled, his eyebrows locking.

His face jerked back to look at Jack, eyes wide like a frantic, sceptical deer caught in the headlights of a truck. He listened to Jack's hesitant, whispered question with growing panic. If Jack remembered the same vague details he did… then the strange images running through his aching head were not just the remnants of some twisted dream. His jaw slackened and he mouthed wordlessly for a moment before closing his mouth, locking his jaw, swallowing, and vehemently shaking his head. "No," he said, firmer than he had spoken ever before. "No, I… I jus'…"

He looked away, thinking frantically, rubbing his hands uncomfortably up and down the thighs of his jeans. "I… move," he finally said, jerkily. "In m' sleep." He cleared his throat, nodding to himself, then looked over at Jack, his face set and determined. "Fact," he said assertively. Then he looked away again, exhaling awkwardly.

The sound of the truck's wheels over the gravel suddenly demanded his whole and rapt attention. "Sure, sure," he agreed with Jack, not looking at him. "We'll jus'… Never happened." He shook his head, then nodded towards the truck. "Truck's here," he said determinedly. "We should…" He paused, glancing fleetingly over at Jack, and, seeing that he was already getting out of the truck, so Ennis took the initiative to do the same.

Ennis felt his boots crunching down on the gravel, and he took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath of Wyoming air and calming his nerves, exhaling deeply and trying to shake out the still-awkward feeling of the uncomfortable moment in the truck with Jack, and, clearing his throat and shaking his head out like a dog trying to clear water from its fur, he made his way to the truck. He paused, considering his options, seeing Jack in the back of the truck, and took a step to go around the truck to sit in the passenger's seat, but then reconsidered, thinking about what kind of inescapable awkwardness would occur if the truck driver decided it would be a good idea to interrogate Ennis about the details of his and Jack's summer work.

Since Ennis did not particularly feel like talking, not to the truck driver or anyone else, he turned his eyes away from Jack and hopped up into the bed of the truck as well, leaning back against the side as far away from the other cowboy as he could manage and, resting his tan hands on his knees, he looked out of the truck, sighed, and clenched his jaw shut.

_____

Jack avoided looking at Ennis, he was perfectly content to sit on his side of the truck and smoke his Marlboros; but something in the back of his head kept nagging him to turn and steal just one glance at Ennis.

"Well, say goodbye to the civilized world." Jack joked, playfully, grinning at Ennis. He fell silent and turned his head to look over the plains towards the mountains. He carefully traced the path up to it, a good hour and a half drive, if not more. Jack thoughtfully took a long drag on his cigarette, flicking the ashes off with his thumb and exhaling slowly, letting the tendrils of thick smoke lazily curl up the side of his face. He pulled off his hat to keep it from flying off his head and fiddled with it in one hand, finishing off his cigarette with the other. He flicked it out onto the side of the road as the truck driver finally pulled out of the parking lot, only after chatting briefly with Aguirre.

"The jump off on Brokeback, right?" He had asked, spitting a bit of chew out onto the gravel.

"That's the one. Make sure them boys arrive there quick. I gotta get them damned sheep up there before tonight." Aguirre said glaring a bit at the two awkward boys in the truck.

Jack sighed heavily and closed his eyes, the wind flipping his hair all around his face. Sleep washed over him again, the first round having been cut off abrupt and early. His features fell into a calm contemplative look as his eyes glazed over and his head dropped back against the truck's rear-view windshield; his face on display in the early morning sun.

_Francine giggled, handing Jack a tall glass of icy lemonade and averting her eyes from his toned, shirtless chest. She looked at the shed he had been building and nodded eagerly in approval. She twirled a ribbon on her dress between two fingers and stared at the ground. Jack faced away from her, hands on the waist of his jeans, and admired his handiwork, his eyes squinting in a huge smile. He felt soft fingers brushing down his ribs to rest on the tops of his hands. He looked over his shoulder in surprise, his shoulders pulling back as his back muscles contracted from the touch. He slowly turned around to see Francine tossing him a sultry smile. She slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him softly. Jack let her kiss him, placing his hands on the small of her back, eager for any__ contact of this sort. He slowly closed his eyes, moving his hands to her oddly bony hips, much less curvy and much more toned than expected for a plump country girl. She gripped his head forcefully, pulling his head back and kissing him as if she were the same height as him. The passionate, and distinctly rough, kissing slowed from the heated crescendo and Jack's eyes flitted open, resting not on the smooth rounded face of Francine, but on…_

A deep pot-hole caused Jack to slam his head into the metal side of the truck, waking him up with a sharp pain in his head. Jack winced, pulling himself into an up-right sitting position and muttered a soft curse. He vaguely remembered a good dream, but couldn't recall what was happening in it. He rubbed his face for a moment, glancing over at Ennis with a mixed look of pain, annoyance, and confusion and banged on the side of the truck.

"We stoppin' anytime soon?!" Jack yelled through the opened window.

"We're about twenty ta thirty minutes ta Brokeback." The driver yelled back, not looking away from the road. Jack spied a filling station.

"Well, can ya pull over?! I gotta piss like a race horse!" Jack could barely hear what the driver mumbled to himself over the wind, but he did see a bored shrug. Jack felt a quickly growing resentment and irritation at the man's lack of consideration for anyone but himself.

The driver must have felt Jack's anger at his impassive shrug, because he heaved a sigh of aggravation and pulled into the station. Jack hopped out of the truck and walked in and to the restroom. The door hit the wall behind it as he shoved it open and it closed slowly, leaving Jack in a dimly lit public restroom. He went directly to the urinal and relieved himself, glaring at the empty space in front of him. He finished with a zip and sauntered over to the sink; he washed his hands and splashed his face with cool water from the tap. He turned his death glare at the mirror.

'What the fuck are you thinkin', Jack fuckin' Twist?!' He chided himself, cracking his neck and replacing his hat. He stepped out the door and lit a cigarette, exhaling vehemently. He moseyed back over towards the truck, avoiding any eye contact with Ennis. He hopped back into the truck, waiting in awkward silence for the driver to come back outside. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to apologize to Ennis.

'What the hell, I cain't control what I dream…' Jack told himself, forcing his mouth to stay shut.

The driver came out of the store waving goodbye to a friend inside; he carried with him a bottle of whiskey, making Jack smirk in fond reminiscence. Finally, when the truck was moving again, Jack chanced a glance at Ennis, quickly looking away afterwards. The driver turned onto a dirt road near the bottom of the mountain, "The jump-off is just up here. They'll give you horses and dogs and all that shit. You'll get the sheep too. Then you'll take off. Got it? Don't ya'll fuck it up."

Jack climbed out of the back and adjusted his hat looking over the horses they had to pick from. He picked a soft tan one named Foxglove and went to look over the dogs. A small smile crept up the corners of his mouth as he noticed a few small pups with the rest of the larger dogs. He picked up a particularly bluish-black one and stuck it in his inside coat pocket, smirking at the soft wiggling near his side.

He watched Ennis as he expertly chose the best horses for himself and back-up; a warm sensation came to Jack's stomach as Ennis inspected and examined. Jack turned away embarrassedly, mounting the tan mare and shifting his weight around as she shook and bucked softly. He noted she was rather skittish and continued to get used to the way she rode.

The man who dropped off the herd pointed out the blue 'A' paint brands on Aguirre's sheep and told Jack the count was one thousand sheep even. Jack half listened, his thoughts elsewhere, his mouth clamped tightly shut. He kept his eyes locked to the ground, not trusting them to wander about as they please; they could get him in a lot of trouble.

As soon as Ennis was ready with the pack-mules and the rest of the horses, they rounded the sheep up and headed for the mountain. Jack picked up a sickly lamb that had been dragging behind and set it on his horse in front of him to join his growing menagerie. He turned to Ennis once the last sounds of civilization died down.

"Quiet up here, ain't it?" he attempted at some poor small talk, trying to ease any tension Ennis might be feeling towards him. He, almost instinctively, reached for his cigarettes; then, thinking better of it, he let his hand pat the mare on the neck. The horse softly whinnied and tossed her mane. A quick, furtive glance at Ennis and he was awkwardly trying for conversation again.

"I always did like the mountains, my daddy used ta take us up here once or twice a year. We'd have a great time, then ease back into our boring daily lives. It was like some kinda breath a fresh air. Specially since we travelled for rodeo a lot. One thing that never seemed ta change was the mountain." Jack started off into space for a moment, wetting his lips slowly, "Friends would change, town would change, but never these mountains." Jack shook his head and leaned back a little bit glancing over his shoulder at the dogs.

"Sorry," Jack said softly, sneaking a glimpse at Ennis and nervously smiling, "I talk too much…" He looked up at the colourful morning sky, pondering the beautifully soft oranges and pinks.

_____

Ennis watched as the truck driver paused to chat with Aguirre, sighing, not really paying attention to what either man was saying. His focus was more on not looking at Jack, and wishing mightily that they could get to the mountain already, so that he did not have to endure this painful awkwardness. He inhaled through his teeth, looking outside of the truck, back at Aguirre's trailer, anywhere but at Jack. Finally, the truck driver started off, and Ennis exhaled in relief that they were finally starting off.

Ennis sat quietly on his side of the truck, every so often picking at his nails, and removed his hat, holding it to his chest so it would not fly away. From time to time his eyes would flick to Jack, then, just as quickly, they would return again to his hands or his knees. He cleared his throat, sniffing, and looked up, watching as Jack began to nod off.

Ennis' brow furrowed slightly as Jack's head hit the back window of the truck, and he stared at him, taking in his features. Jack looked so peaceful, sleeping there. Ennis looked down at his boots, scuffing one slightly against the bed of the truck. He would never admit that what he thought remembered happening had actually happened, but… Ennis' eyes returned to Jack, and he found his eyes drawn to the other young man's lips. They were slightly parted, and Ennis found himself thinking suddenly about how gentle they were, so soft to the touch…

Not that he knew what they felt like.

He coughed, looking back at his hands with a deep scowl. It had been a bizarre dream, that was all. A very _vivid_, bizarre dream. He gripped the side of the truck as they hit a pot hole, and looked up to see Jack's reaction. He had jerked awake, and was now looking around in almost as much confusion as Ennis had felt when he had woken up to find himself sleeping on Jack's shoulder.

_Stop it. Stop thinking about that._

He almost quirked a half-grin when Jack told the truck driver to pull over so he could piss. Ennis stayed in the back of the truck as Jack went in to relieve himself. He had to go, too, he realized, but there was no way he would put himself in such close proximity to Jack Twist. The already awkward feeling between them would only get worse if the two of them were seen going into a restroom together.

Ennis blushed at the thought, and quickly changed his thought process, wondering once again how long it would take to get up to Brokeback. Hopefully it would not be much longer; he could not stand much more of this horrendous awkwardness.

He looked up as Jack came sauntering back from the bathroom, and looked away as Jack swung himself back into the truck, his cigarette dangling from his lip. Suddenly Ennis found himself wanting a cigarette. He was not sure if it was because he had seen Jack's cigarette, or because he had seen Jack smoking the cigarette, but he suddenly had an itching urge for tobacco. But instead, he scuffed the heel of his boot against the bed of the truck, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, and said nothing.

Ennis looked over as the truck's driver came out of the convenience store with a bottle of whiskey, and a slight, tight grin played at one corner of his mouth. Then he pushed the thought from his mind. Whiskey made him have strange dreams. He did not need to be thinking about drinking whiskey at a time like this. He had been warned all his life about the evils of various things, among them whiskey drinking, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, and homosexuality. Thus far, he had sampled a bit of all of them.

Except homosexuality. Jesus fucking Christ.

Ennis gritted his teeth, pulling his knees up to his chest, scowling. "Fuckin'," he mumbled to himself. "Ain't nothin' _happened._"

The truck started off again, and Ennis looked out at the countryside, watching it pass by, keeping his mind off of Jack and whiskey and odd, vivid dreams that he might have or might not have had. The wind whistled past his head, and he squinted his dark eyes, watching the landscape flash by. Once they got up to Brokeback and started doing their separate jobs, he would not have to interact with Jack as much, and this strange occurrence would become a thing of the past. With any luck, they would be able to laugh about it in time.

Finally, the truck arrived at Brokeback Mountain, and Ennis got out after Jack. The driver gave them a few words of warning, which Ennis only half-paid attention to. His attention was captured by an assortment of horses that were lined up to be chosen from. He loved horses. He took the soft muzzle of one in his hand and gently pressed his nose to the horse's long face, smiling. It smelled sweet, like hay.

Ennis had been raised around horses, so he was a good enough horseback rider, but he had not had much of a chance to be around them since he had been put out to fend for himself a year ago. Being around horses like this was refreshing, and it made a warm glow build up inside him as he petted each horse's nose in turn. He looked in each horse's eyes as he passed them, trying to pick one who would respect him, but who would do good work. He finally decided on a honey-brown horse.

He did not bother asking its name; he had always called horses "Horse," dogs "Dog," and cats "Cat". Names were a bother. It was a wonder he, himself had so many of them. He looked over, watching as Jack selected his horse, a beige mare, and a slight frown crossed his face. He had passed that one over, but he guessed Jack was not as experienced with horses as he was. Ennis considered saying something, then decided to drop the subject. He turned away, letting out a quiet breath of laughter. Jack would learn what kind of horse he had chosen soon enough.

Then the pack-mules were handed off to him. "Just don't ask for soup," the squatty Mexican man who had handed off the mules to him told him with a frown. "Those soup-boxes are hard to pack."

"Don't eat soup," Ennis mumbled, shaking his head as he worked the mules' reigns in his hands. He did not look at the man as he turned away, back towards his horse, Jack, and the marked sheep. With a quick glance at Jack, he tied the mules to his horse, swung himself up into the saddle, and clicked his tongue for his horse to start up to the mountain.

He half-listened as Jack tried to strike up an airy conversation. "Yep," he replied half-heartedly, his tongue moving slowly across his dry lips as he looked up towards the sky. "Quiet."

He looked back out towards their destination, listening to Jack's story about his father and their trips up to the mountain, nodding along with him. "Sounds nice," he replied. "Sad world view, though. Fuckin'…" He glanced at Jack, then looked away again. "Sad," he said again, quieter.

Then he frowned slightly, looking over at Jack again. "No, no," he said, "'s fine. I just… ain't real talkative." He looked away again. "Don't mean… you can't be." He sniffed, looking out at the countryside. "I mean…" He shrugged. "I kinda like it."

He offered a tight smile to Jack, then looked away, clearing his throat. "I mean," he was digging himself into a hole. "I, uh… It kills the silence." He frowned then. "Hate… awkward silence," he said. "Makes me feel real…" He fumbled for the word. "Awkward," he finally said.

He scowled at himself, looking determinedly away from Jack. There was a long silence between the two. Then Ennis said, "So, uh… I should get up t' the campsite." He paused, clearing his throat, then sniffed. "Start gettin' supper ready," he mumbled.

_____

Jack watched as Ennis nuzzled the horses softly, he felt his heart melting and his lips smiling. Before Ennis could look over he wiped the ridiculous grin off his face, scolding himself for staring again. He almost met eyes with Ennis as he looked over Jack's horse. Jack quickly busied himself with the saddle and avoided eye contact.

The crisp breeze caused Jack to pull his coat closer; he stared for a long while at a stream running close by. Jack glanced at Ennis when he said that it was a sad view of the world, pondering it for a moment.

"I guess. I jus' meant that- well, that the mountains were always the same. They jus'…" Jack threw another furtive glance at the other man, "… I don't know." Jack shrugged. "I never had much friends. I mean, sure while school was in I'd have friends an' all, but I dropped out near the end of my freshman year when my daddy took us on a year long rodeo trip 'cross the U.S. When I come back, no one was really… y'know… like, friendly with me no more. Ev'rybody had new friends an' I'd been gone so long that no one really felt like they knew me any more." Jack suddenly felt like he had been bitchin'. He looked up at the sky again, apologizing for talking so damned much. Why couldn't he just keep-

'Did he say he liked me?' Jack felt his heart skip a beat, he briefly looked at Ennis and shook his head, 'Said he liked the talkin' not you, Twist. Why the hell would he like you? Dumb ass.'

"I guess, I'll go get the sheep settled an' then come back to help set up camp?" Jack asked, nodding as Ennis moved his horse off to the campground area.


	5. Chapter Four

Jack whistled for the dogs to follow him as he led them and the sheep up the mountain. He pondered his predicament; he'd never really felt this way for anyone before. A strange combination of extreme curiosity and desire to be intimate. He pulled on his horse's reigns and stopped it short of a creek as he waited for each sheep to cross over in front of him. There were so many sheep, a thousand in all, that Jack found his mind wandering as all of them slowly walked into the small stream.

'Ennis del Mar,' Jack thought, 'Did you really try to kiss me?' A smile pulled at the corners of Jack's lips and a small chuckle escaped. He wanted the damned sheep to hurry so he could catch a few more hours at dinner with Ennis. He started making loud noises, urging the sheep faster, riling up the dogs. Soon enough they were in the first grazing meadow that they would be staying in for a month. A quick perimeter check positively assessed the lack of coyotes.

Jack bounded back down the mountain, happily and hummed something his mother had sung when he was little, Water Walking Jesus. He turned and followed the only path through the thick brush. He heard the running water and wondered what time it was; he glanced up at the sun and determined that it was around five. He heard Ennis up ahead putting stuff together; he followed the sound, ready to help set up camp. Jack dismounted the mare and let her graze happily in some nearby grass, removing his jacket and throwing it over a branch.

"Hey there, cowboy." he fondly greeted Ennis, "You been okay without me?" he joked, a playful grin inching across his face. He pulled the tent off one of the pack mules and started setting it up with ease. Next, he pulled together some branches to make a place to hang their meats from. Once all that was done, he grabbed the saw they had been given. He walked over to a downed tree and began sawing it quickly; he worked out a couple frustrations at himself on the tree, violently ripping through it. He got completely through it in record speed, only ten minutes and he was pulling it back near the fire pit Ennis had put together. With one swift kick Jack had the trunk in the perfect spot for sitting against. As the camp set-up had come to an end, Jack found himself rather hungry.

"Hey, bud, ya think we might could crack open summa that food? I'm starving'." Jack kept his eyes glued to a piece wood in the pit as he tried to start a fire with leaves and a match. He glanced back at the food they had, mostly in cans, and decided on beans and some pork. He pulled his thoughts out of their groceries and continued setting up. The fire finally caught in the leaves and soon they had a small campfire going. Jack glanced at the stream and picked up two buckets, stumbled down to the edge and filled them to the brim with ice cold water. He placed some water into a pot and placed it on the grill-face over the fire. Jack watched Ennis, as he finished up the few remaining camp chores, and lit a cigarette. He needed the calming nicotine right now, especially since he insisted on harping on something that didn't even happen, for all he knew.

'There's no way on god's green earth that he kissed me.' He stated to himself resolutely. He found this statement anything but satisfying. In fact, he found it downright disappointing. He mentally smacked himself.

'What the fuck is wrong with you? You fuckin' queer, boy?!' He shook his head to himself, barely noticeable, opened a can of beans with a rusty can opener, and set the entire can on the grill. The pork was proving difficult and when he finally got it opened, it spilled all over his pants. He frowned at it.

"God damnit. I got fuckin' juice all over my fuckin' pants." He complained loudly, but really only to himself, "Sonovabitch. Fuckin' idiot." He mumbled curses at himself and the pork can, throwing the contents into a frying pan and shaking it. He pulled himself up, walked back to the buckets, dipped a hand into the water and rubbed on the spot. He got most of it out, but the wet spot remained. He scowled at the spot again, mumbling yet another curse. He quickly calmed himself, assuring that he wouldn't like to lose it over a splash of fuckin' ham juice.

"Hey, Ennis." Jack called, setting himself down on the ten foot trunk, "You ready for some sort of dinner?" He shook the pan and stirred the can a little bit with a spoon. He kept the water covered, hoping it would keep warm enough to shave his face after supper, if it didn't get too dark, early.

_____

Ennis listened to Jack's story about his past, nodding along. Jack said he had dropped out of high school in his freshman year; Ennis had never even gone to high school. He had always been too busy on the ranch to have time for anything like arithmetic. His older siblings had given him a rough education when they had the time - he could read and write at what he supposed was the level of an intelligent sixth-grader, but he had never had any further education in history, and all he knew of science and mathematics was basic farmyard biology and simple time tables.

It had never bothered him before, but he suddenly felt very self-conscious about his lack of education when Jack talked about himself. He looked away, staring at the horn of his saddle, frowning slightly. With any luck, Jack would not try to strike up any kind of intellectual conversation with him. But, judging by what he knew of Jack, he was not the intellectual type. Ennis squinted up at the sky, silently thankful. If there was anything Ennis Del Mar hated, it was being made to look like a fool in front of people.

He let out a long sigh, glancing over as Jack told him his plans for the evening. "Sounds good," Ennis mumbled, looking away again. "I'll just… go start settin' up." He clicked his tongue, steering his horse away up towards the designated campsite, letting his body rock gently back and forth with the steady, calming movement of the composed mare. He frowned, shaking his head at himself. He liked Jack's idle chatter because it filled the silence. When he was by himself, it gave him time to think, and all he could think about was, _Ennis Del Mar, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Ennis led the mare up to the clearing and pulled gently on her reigns. "Whoa," he told her in a low voice, then slid off her back, petting her nose, then led her over to a nearby tree and tied her reigns so she would not run away. He rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans, exhaling deeply as he looked around the camp. Then he turned back to the mules, grunting as he pulled the tent off of one of their backs and set it down on the ground, dusting his hands off from the effort, and set to putting up a fire pit to make the food on.

The food was all in cans, Ennis soon discovered. Cans were easy to pack, he concluded with a sigh, as he pulled out a selection of what the cowboys had to eat that evening. Canned beans and canned pork seemed to be the only available things on the menu, so, with a shrug, he set them out near the fire pit. He took his hat off and scratched his head, twisting his mouth to one side and letting out a noise of annoyed boredom.

"Fuckin'," he mumbled, stuffing his hat back onto his head, "nothin' t' do."

He put his hands on his hips, leaning back, and heard a satisfying crack from his spine as he did so. Then he took his jaw in his hands and turned his head sharply, cracking his neck. He had gotten uncomfortably stiff on the truck ride over, and riding a horse right afterwards had done nothing for his tense joints. He put a hand to the back of his neck, frowning as he rubbed a sore spot at the nape of his neck, and for a split second, he considered asking Jack for a back rub when he came back from herding the sheep.

The thought was quickly pushed from his mind.

"Dammit," he said with a huff of breath, frowning and withdrawing his hand. "Stop thinkin' about it. Nothin' happened. Fuckin'… end a' story."

He sat down on the ground near the horses, taking off his hat and setting it aside, his legs splayed out in front of him, awkward and gangly, and stared at his boots. Then he tucked his legs up in front of him like an obedient child, putting his hands on his ankles, his shoulders hunched up by his ears as he stared at his hat, sitting next to him on the ground. He let out a long exhale, suddenly wishing he had a cigarette. He would have to ask Jack for one, it was inevitable. He could not take much more of this stress. He needed some nicotine.

When the squatty Mexican came back, he would have to request cigarettes. Marlboro's, he decided. Those were what Jack smoked, and if they were good enough for Jack, they were good enough for Ennis. Ennis was not picky, and Jack seemed to have made up his mind on the matter, so… Ennis shrugged, looking away from the hat, making distracted noises from between his clenched teeth. Marlboro's sounded just fine to Ennis.

In fact, at the moment, Marlboro's sounded great.

It was a pity he had none.

Ennis looked up as he heard the approach of another horse, and got to his feet as Jack came riding over the crest of the hill. He offered him a tight grin, then turned back to the fire pit and started distractedly fooling with the cans. He frowned slightly at Jack's humoured greeting, made a bit uncomfortable by the overly-friendly manner he was addressing Ennis in. "Yeah, uh… been okay, I guess," he mumbled, not looking at the other cowboy.

Ennis handed Jack a can of beans and a can of pork, and watched as Jack lit up the fire in the fire pit and set to cooking his food over it. He opened up his own cans and set to cooking the beans on the fire, letting the pork cook in the little pan they had been given for their meal-making. He looked up from his cooking when Jack spilled his pork sauce on his pants, and a slight half-grin came to his face, but he said nothing as Jack got up to clean himself off. "Got a li'l spot," he said, indicating the large water stain on Jack's pants. "There."

He grinned to himself, returning his attention to the food on the fire pit. "Sounds good," he said, nodding slightly. He picked up a rag, reaching over to the fire pit and picking up his can of beans. He blew into it, cooling the beans, then took out two spoons from his pack, handing one to Jack and taking the other himself.

Ennis took a bite of the beans, considering the taste, or lack thereof, thoughtfully before swallowing it. "You c'n wash yer pants iffin you want," he told Jack. Wash 'em out, n' hang 'em up t' dry. They's the only ones you got, far as I know." He sniffed, stirring the beans in his can with his spoon a bit. He took another bite of beans, then frowned suddenly, his dark eyes suddenly moving to Jack. "I din' mean…" he began. He looked away again, slightly frantic but willing himself to act normal. "I, uh…" He cleared his throat.

"Sure you got a river up there," he said stiffly, staring intently at his beans, which had suddenly become very interesting. "With th' sheep."

Ennis sniffed, staring down into his beans, stirring them with the spoon. He hesitated, then took another bite. The awkward silence in the camp was killing him. He looked up at Jack again, frowning slightly. "You, uh…" he began. He paused, looking back at his beans. "You got a cigarette?" he asked.

He looked up again, accepting the cigarette and light from Jack, setting down his beans as he took a drag of the cigarette and blew out smoke, closing his eyes and savouring the relief from his overwhelming stress. "Hm," he mumbled, rubbing his eye with the palm of one hand. He checked the watch Aguirre had given him, then looked back at the smoking cigarette. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, considering what to say. Then he looked up at Jack again.

"Hey, you got any more a' that whiskey?" he asked.

_____

Jack frowned at Ennis in mock distress as he dabbed at the spot with a rag.

"Looks like I fuckin' pissed m'self." He said laughing at the last words. He continued dabbing and listening to what Ennis was saying. He took the can of beans from Ennis' hand and plopped down three or so feet to his left and started munching on the tasteless beans. He had just gotten a good bite in his mouth when Ennis said he could wash his pants, seeing as those were the only ones he knew of. Jack swallowed the beans slowly trying to suppress the smile that was creeping up to his lips.

"That's mighty kind a ya," Jack refrained from teasing him and opted for a slight alteration of the truth, "No, actually. Not a real river. More like a… trickling stream."

In all actuality, there was a fine creek about three feet wide and a foot deep; plenty fine for washing clothes, but who needed to know? If Ennis wanted him to wash his clothes here, that's precisely what he planned on doing. Poor Ennis was obviously horrified that he suggested such a thing and awkwardly asked for a cigarette. Jack obliged, handing him a lighter and a cigarette.

"Well, soon you'll be smoking half a pack a day." Jack mused quietly, smiling softly to himself, "Sorry, my bad habits are rubbing off on you." He took one for himself, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. He pushed it to the side of his mouth and continued smoking as he ate.

The silence continued, Jack squirmed quietly and finished his beans off with a soft scraping noise. He ran his tongue along his teeth to make sure he didn't have any large hunks of bean in them and leaned back against the log.

'I should probably go back to them damned sheep.' he thought, mentally complaining about Aguirre's ridiculous rules. He'd much rather stay in camp, bask in the fire, and curl up in the tent with- No. No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not. He would not finish that thought. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and stuck his boot in the ashes near the fire, trying to warm up his freezing toes.

"Hey, you got any more a' that whiskey?" a rough voice broke Jack's troubled thoughts. He took a moment to regain composure and answered in a slowly grinning voice.

"Sure do. You wan' I should crack open a bottle?" Jack leaned backwards over the log, reaching for his pack. He grabbed it and pulled out a bottle full of the deep amber liquid. He twisted the cap off in one swift motion, took a deep swig and handed it to Ennis, offering him a drink.

The fire was warming up Jack's boots nicely and he tucked his numbing hands into his coat pocket, recalling the small dog he had inside them earlier; he had left it with the other dogs when he had headed back to camp. He lit another cigarette and drank more burning whiskey from the cool, glass bottle. He tilted his hat back so he could better see Ennis, sitting a good three feet away; whether out of coincident or unease, Jack couldn't tell.

It was about six in the evening, they hadn't been drinking long when Jack turned his head, looking Ennis squarely in the eye.

"You go ta church, Ennis?" Jack seemed to be as serious as possible while he swayed back and forth ever so slightly, "My parents… they believe in the Pentacost; but me, I- I don't know if any of that is… like, you know… Real." He took the bottle and swallowed some liquor thoughtfully.

"I don't know, really. I just thought I'd ask." Jack finished, cursing himself for asking such contemplative questions. He brushed his hand down his thigh and burned his hand slightly on the hot rivets of his jeans

The whiskey passed back and forth in a slow rhythm, lingering with each cowboy before going to the next. The contents of the bottle getting closer and closer to empty as dusk went by and dark quickly followed. Jack found himself much closer to Ennis than he had been at the beginning of their drinking session, a coincidence that he quickly attributed to the cold gusts and crisp mountain air. They had just been laughing at the story of Ennis' rodeo career when Jack noticed, however much the man laughed, he still seemed so tense.

"Ya get stiff in the back a the truck?" Jack slurred, "I bet ridin' them hosses did'n help much." He suppressed a smirk at the unintentional innuendo that had creeped it's way into his drunken speech. He stared at the fire a minute.

"S'not good fer ya to jus' let that go un… attended." He looked away from the fire at Ennis, "Here, Lemme give ya a back rub. Ya know, loosen them stiff muscles…" Jack heaved himself up from his reclined position on the log and, almost falling into the fire, stepped over it. He stumbled over behind Ennis and sat on the log behind him.

"It'll make ya feel better…" Jack justified, grabbing Ennis' shoulders roughly and squeezing tightly, "And I don' mind." He just sat there a moment rubbing the other man's back and swaying back and forth a bit.

He had never too much of a masseuse, he had given his mother a back rub once or twice and Francine a foot rub once, but the movements came so natural. He wasn't even afraid he was hurting Ennis, squeezing too hard or pushing the wrong place, because he could feel the tightness dripping out of the overworked cowboy's back and neck.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Jack felt his eyes closing slightly and he tentatively laid his chin to rest on Ennis's shoulder as he continued to massage the tension out of them. His hat was pushed sideways from the brim of Ennis' white hat as he subconsciously inched closer to the other face. Jack breathed slowly and rhythmically, trying to retain that certain smell of Ennis del Mar in his mind forever. He could hear soft breathing beside him; he wanted so badly to just brush his cheek against the stubble beside him.

'Well, why the hell not? You think he's gonna notice? He's as drunk as you are. Do it, you yellow bellied chicken shit.' Jack couldn't really think up much resistance for this argument and decided not to try. He leaned in even closer, nearly knocking his hat clean off, and brushed his cheek ever so lightly against Ennis'. He felt a rush about himself that he had never felt with any of his ex-girlfriends, a need to be closer. Ennis' face turned towards Jack's at the soft nuzzling, seeking answers or more intimacy, Jack wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to kiss those thin, but innocent, lips. He softly brushed his full lips against the tightly stretched ones beneath the muddled eyes of his companion.

Jack pulled back ever so slightly, looking into those beautiful honey brown eyes, and leaned back in to press his lips firmly against Ennis'.

'After all,' Jack reasoned, logic slowly slipping away, 'It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.'

_____

Ennis smiled, shaking his head as he poked at his beans with his spoon. "No," he said, not looking at Jack, as he took his cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "I ain't a big smoker. Ain't intendin' on becomin' one, neither. My daddy… he used to smoke, 'bout a pack a day." He chuckled slightly, stirring his beans. "Sounded 'bout like a raspy ol' foghorn, time he died," he said with a slight grin.

Ennis shrugged, putting the cigarette back to his lips. "I'm prob'ly gonna quit off once I come down offa this mountain," he said, the smile starting to fade slowly from his lips. "'Fraid… Alma ain't much for smokin'. Comes from a real conservative family, she does, an'… ain't never seen a one of 'em light up in their lives. Least… long as I've known 'em." He sniffed. "'Bout a year or so," he said in a lower voice.

The thought of Alma was a comforting one. The faint smile returned to Ennis' face as he thought about her rosy cheeks and bobbed brunette hair, and her pouty pink lips, and how they looked in the cold winter-time. He shifted slightly, settling back down a little closer to the other cowboy, watching the slowly dwindling fire as thoughts of Alma and his family started flooding back to him. He looked back at his now-empty can of beans, running his spoon around the bottom of the can thoughtfully as he considered how peaceful life on the mountain seemed when compared to the everyday struggles he went through just trying to keep afloat in the real world.

Being up on the mountain seemed almost surreal, in a way. He sniffed, looking down at his boots, and tried to think of Alma again, of how it felt to kiss those soft, pouty pink lips with the snow swirling around, shaded from the world by the branches of an evergreen… when the evergreen suddenly became the interior of an old truck, and Alma's soft lips suddenly belonged to someone else…

Ennis cleared his throat, frowning, and set his can of beans to the side, crossing his arms over his ribcage and staring adamantly at the fire. He gave Jack a sideways glance when he asked if Ennis wanted him to open up a new bottle of whiskey. Of course he did – otherwise he would not have asked. But if he answered in that forward of a manner, Jack might think him too eager, or… worse. "Sure," he said with a careless shrug. "If you want to. I mean… you don't hafta listen t' me. It was just… a suggestion." A slight grin quirked at the edge of his mouth, but it soon vanished, and he looked away, flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette.

It seemed Jack Twist was all too happy to take his suggestion, because the bottle of whiskey was taken out and opened, and was soon being passed between the two cowboys. He was holding the bottle when Jack suddenly asked him about church. Ennis took a swig, buying some time, and licked his lips as he thought about how to answer, but Jack went on before he had a chance. Ennis was glad to have some more of Jack's opinion before he gave his own; it was always good to hear someone else speak first. He nodded slightly, listening to Jack's reasoning, then looked up at him, handing back the bottle.

"Ain't never been big on church," he admitted, looking back at his boots and scuffing one against the packed ground slightly. "Alma, she… her family, they're real big church-goers, but me…" He shrugged, turning his head slightly and looking into the fire, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands falling between his thighs. "I ain't never really seen much point in it, tell the truth." He looked back at Jack. "I mean, some big guy, sittin' up there…" He glanced up towards the darkening sky, squinting slightly as he tried to see from beneath the brim of his hat. "Decidin' who's goin' where an' why, who's doin' what, er… _who._"

Ennis looked back at Jack, still squinting slightly, and a tiny grin quirked at the edge of his mouth. "It jus' seems a little _strange,_ to me, is all," he said, looking away again. He picked up a stick and poked at the fire with it. "But I ain't tryin' t' influence no one, mind," he said in a lower voice, shaking his head.

Ennis lost count of how many times the bottle was passed back to him, and soon he gave up trying. He grinned at Jack as the almost-empty whiskey bottle was passed to him again, and he took a swig of the liquor before turning to Jack, indicating him with the hand holding the neck of the bottle. "You're a rodeo boy," he said, his grin widening slightly. "I ever tell you… 'bout my rodeo… in'?" He turned away, readjusting himself by the fire, a bit closer to the other cowboy, swallowing as he tried to concentrate and figure out what exactly he was trying to say. He turned his face slightly towards Jack, his eyes still lingering on the fire, as he tried to puzzle it out. Then, "Oh," he said, his dark eyes returning to Jack, "I 'member what I was sayin'."

He cleared his throat, leaning slightly towards Jack, and began, "I was… seventeen. Young, stupid, all that. An' I…" He chuckled unexplainably, turning his face away slightly as he tried to go on with his story. "I wanted t' rodeo… see. Like you, 'cept…" He wavered, his brow furrowing and one eye closing slightly as he tried to stay on track with his story. Then he looked up at Jack again. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. He handed the whiskey back to Jack. "You bes'… take that," he mumbled. Then he cleared his throat again and looked up at Jack. "But I wanted to rodeo, like. So I… paid my entry fee, an' they… put me on this bull, n'…"

Ennis snorted in laughter, his gaze not leaving Jack's face, and started to giggle again. "Well, that bull took off, an' I stayed on 'im bout three fuckin' seconds 'fore… whoosh." He put out one arm in an expressive gesture. "I was throwed like an ol' shoe at a yowlin' cat. An' I went flyin' through the air…" He started to laugh again, and could not help but notice Jack was laughing, too, though he could not really tell if it was because his story was funny or because both of them were ridiculously drunk. Either way, Jack seemed to be enjoying listening to his story as much as Ennis enjoyed telling it, so he knew he must be doing something right.

He sat up then, putting a hand to his forehead, pushing his hat back away from his bangs slightly, and stared at the fire. "Ain't never been much fer rodeo-in'," he admitted, his enthusiasm quickly draining. He sighed, pushing his hat back squarely onto his head, and stared into the flames. "Ain't never really been much good at… anythin' at all," he said quietly.

Ennis smirked slightly at the mention of getting 'stiff' in the back of the truck. Of course, it really was not funny; if it had been said by anyone but Jack it would have been funny in an immature, Freudian kind of way, but Ennis was too drunk to discern. He shook his head at the mention of the horses. "Been ridin' horses m' whole life," he said, "I'm used to 'em. I've ridden rougher b'fore." His smirk widened. It was like trading bad sex jokes with an old friend, one he had known all his life… and had certainly not kissed the night earlier in a similar drunken stupor…

The grin disappeared from Ennis' face as he thought about that, and his dark eyes fluttered open. He stared at the fire for a long moment, listening to Jack's reasoning. Ennis hesitated when Jack suggested a back rub, then looked up at the other cowboy. He did not like such direct human contact, but… He shrugged, looking back at the fire, and took a deep breath. "If you want," he mumbled, squaring off his shoulders and folding his arms across his chest. "I ain't never really been… fond of 'em, much, but… there's a first time for most everythin', I s'pose. If you're sure it's okay…"

At Jack's confirmation that it was all right, Ennis turned back around, settling back down against the log that he had been sitting against the whole time as Jack moved around and began to softly massage his back. He closed his eyes, letting out a long, satisfied exhale at the kneading feeling in his shoulders. He pursed his lips, leaning his head back slightly into Jack's general direction as he let Jack continue to massage his shoulders. He could feel his tense shoulder-blades start to relax as Jack worked his magic on Ennis' tense back muscles, and he let out a long, relieved sigh as Jack moved his strong hands up and down Ennis' back.

"Mm," he said quietly. His brow furrowed slightly as he felt Jack's chin rest on his shoulder, but he did not open his eyes. It was not a bad feeling; in fact, it was not even a strange feeling. He turned his head slightly, his expression clearing up as he felt the warmth of Jack's breath against his face, and his lips parted slightly as he brushed his stubble against Jack's clean-shaven face. How Jack kept his face so smooth was beyond Ennis… it was almost as soft as a young child's skin, but there was something… masculine, and enticing about it that Ennis had never found enticing about young children.

He suddenly felt Jack's lips brush his, and his eyes opened slightly. He stared at Jack from half-closed, bleary dark eyes, not resisting, not pulling away, as Jack kissed his lips gently, then again. He breathed in deeply, smelling Jack's distinctive scent, that scent of labour and masculinity, and had only a moment to realize what was happening before Jack pressed his lips to Ennis'. Ennis put a hand to Jack's face, and as the other cowboy pulled away, Ennis stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily, before he pushed Jack's hat from his head and pressed his lips to Jack's, locking him in an impassioned kiss.

_____

Jack flicked his cigarette ashes onto the ground and frowned slightly, "You sayin' I sound raspy?" He grinned at Ennis and suppressed a laugh; faking his best old codger voice, rasping and wheezing exaggeratedly, he leaned over towards Ennis, "I don' think you young'uns know the first thing about getting old. Messes yer voice up real bad…" He cut of in a fit of mixed giggles and coughs. "Aw, hell. Sounds like yer right." Jack smiled again, chuckling underneath his breath.

Jack nodded slightly at the mention of Ennis' girlfriend… or fiancée, Alma. He suddenly felt very self-conscious of not having his own long-term girlfriend. Relationships never lasted all too long with any of the girls he had met. He noticed a routine, they'd meet, they'd know each other for about a month, they'd fuck, they'd break up. He pondered his complete lack of commitment as Ennis continued on about Alma. He figured attachment was lacking. None of those girls were all too keen on the idea getting hitched to some rodeo-cowboy who'd drag them from place to place and bring in next to no money in the mean time; but he couldn't put all the blame on them, he didn't really want to get married to some nagging woman who would complain that he didn't buy her nothing and bitch about everything, all the while becoming more and more resentful.

Whiskey was indeed a good choice, get hammered and tell bad jokes and stupid stories till their ribs hurt with laughter. That sounded good right about now; especially with all these depressing thoughts of dying old and alone running around in Jack's head. He almost chuckled audibly at the thought of eighty-year-old Jack Twist hobbling over to a bull and getting thrown straight onto his face. Who would they call to give their condolences to? Not his parents, they'd certainly be dead by then. His wife and kids, if he had any? He smirked cynically to himself, thinking, 'They probably wouldn't have anybody to call.'

Whiskey eased the disheartening thoughts, but the real lift was provided by Ennis' story of his bull-riding career that ended in three seconds. Jack laughed till he thought he would cry, remembering the first time he was on a bull. He pondered this for a few moments and snapped to reality at the mention of Ennis being bad at everything.

"Now, that ain't true. Yer damn good with horses." Jack swigged the whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, "You seemed to…" Jack thought out his words carefully, not wanting to sound ridiculously deep, "Really know yer horses." Jack shrugged, passing the bottle back to the other man. "I reckon' that comes with ridin' 'em your whole life."

As Jack massaged Ennis' shoulders, he felt him sighing in relief, it seemed that whatever it was Jack was doing was working, and nicely. Ennis softly hummed his appreciation and that was just what Jack needed to get his courage up. Jack kissed him several times and waited for a reaction. Anything would do right now, disgust, anger… anything. Jack was trembling so hard he had to clench his teeth to keep them silent.

The trembling stop abruptly in surprise as Ennis knocked his hat from his head in one swift motion. He relaxed and let himself be pulled into Ennis' mouth, feeling his mind drifting into a haze as he slowly moved his hands up Ennis' back. He wasn't sure if he fell or if Ennis pushed him, but he found his bearings on the ground, locked beneath the other man's muscular frame. He watched in breathless confusion as Ennis tossed his hat to the ground, vaguely trying to grasp the situation that had quickly escaladed. Jack closed his eyes and let Ennis explore his chest with his rough, calloused hands. His mind distantly registered the gentle tugging of someone fumbling with his shirt buttons, as his full attention had been brought to the uncomfortable tightening of his jeans. He felt his forehead furrow into an expression of the slightly unpleasant confusion he was feeling.

'What do we do after this?' he wondered, relishing in the soft kisses he being generously given along his jaw line. 'Are we gonna…' This notion was lost as his mouth was once again claimed in a passionate kiss, knocking the breath out of him and scrambling his thoughts. Ennis pulled away from him slowly, leaving Jack gasping for breath and tilting his head upward, curious as to why he had stopped. Jack felt Ennis' head come to rest on his chest as the realization struck him: this was wrong. He froze, unsure of what to do. Robotically, his hand found it's way to Ennis' side and he slowly placed it there, hopefully in a reassuring manner.

_____

Ennis panted, running his hands lustily through Jack's short hair as he pressed his face to Jack's, breathily kissing him, horizontal on the ground on top of the other cowboy. He pulled his own hat from his head and tossed it away, then turned back to Jack and started kissing him again, running his large, tanned hands over Jack's chest, fumbling open the first button of Jack's shirt, breathing heavily on his neck, then gently ran his lips along Jack's jaw, returning to his mouth, and kissed him lustily again. Then he paused, his brow furrowing slightly, and looked back at Jack. He breathed heavily, resting his head on Jack's chest, and closed his eyes, clenching his teeth, and squeezed his dark eyes shut, trying to hold back a dry sob.

"I din'…" He shook his head, pushing himself off of Jack and back in front of the fire. He stared hard at the fire, running a hand across his upper lip, and coughed slightly, stolidly not looking at Jack. He looked down at his boots, then got up unsteadily, trying to catch his balance. He stumbled past the fire towards his pup tent, weaving as he walked, every so often trying to catch his footing. He paused when he reached the tent, holding himself steady against it, then glanced back at Jack with shameful red eyes.

"You should… go back t' the sheep," he mumbled. He looked away, pausing, and swallowed, trying to get the searing taste of Jack's tongue out of his mouth. He felt hollow inside, and yet… He shook the thought from his mind and looked back at Jack. "An' prob'ly toss out that last thing a' whiskey," he added. He looked back at the ground. "Ain't caused… nothin' but trouble," he mumbled. "Gonna get us… fired." He considered looking back up at Jack, but decided against it, turning back to the tent and starting inside. "Or… killed," he added in an undertone.

He stumbled to his knees and hazily pulled his covers towards himself, spreading them over his shoulders and curling up in his day-clothes, resting his head against the earthy bottom of the tent with a sigh. "Fuckin'…" he whispered. He shifted, letting out a heavy sigh. "Ain't like that."

_____

"Ennis… I…" Jack felt he should ease his friend's mind, but he couldn't think of a thing to say. 'I can't say it's alright. He'd think I was…' Jack shook the thought from his head as Ennis attempted some form of speech and pushed himself up off Jack and stared into the fire that was slowly losing it's vibrancy as the cold wind tried to blow it out. Ennis had staggered over to the tent, and was saying that Jack should leave, even though he had pretty much gathered that. He glanced up at Ennis' eyes, dark brown in the dim light, looking away almost immediately for fear of melting over the empty, yet apologetic, look in his eyes.

Jack pulled himself off the ground, head hanging in shamed defeat, and grabbed up his rucksack slinging it over his shoulder. He glanced at Ennis, who was going into the tent, as he snatched his hat off the ground and placed it on his head, covering the eyes that dared to betray his feelings. He never could hide any of his feelings, however secretive, from showing through those deep blue eyes. He heard Ennis settling into the bedroll as he mounted the tan mare, gently nudging her towards the meadow in which he had left the sheep to graze.


	6. Chapter Five

Not much was said of that night for the next couple of days, in fact, not much was said about anything. Jack would come in in the morning, shave, eat, and leave before too much had to be said. Evening would roll through and sometimes Jack would come in and get a can of beans and pork, other times he would just skip the meal all together. After skipping breakfast and dinner one day, he felt the next time they met up might be peppered with reprimand and this made him all the more hesitant to go to anywhere near the camp; but by the second day in his fast, he absolutely needed to get something to eat. The thought briefly crossed his mind to go find an elk and eat that. He shook his head, realizing how ridiculous he was being. He was certain that Ennis was wondering where the hell he had been the last six times he was supposed to be eating.

He sat against a log and riffled through his bag, looking for a pack of cigarettes and his lighter, he brushed a bottle of amber fluid. He sighed, pushing it to the side. Ennis had said to throw it out, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, whether to save his money or to keep a small sliver of hope, he wouldn't admit to himself. He finally found the cigarettes and pulled one out, lighting it, leaning back, and slowly exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. He heaved himself up, looking out over the vast plain towards the camp and longing to go and see his only companion on the whole mountain. He sauntered over to the mare and pulled himself up onto her, looking down at the herding dogs and over at the sheep.

As Jack came trotting into the camp, he noticed that Ennis was no where to be found. He shrugged it off, assuming that he was getting supplies or chopping wood or something. He grabbed a can of the beans he had come to dislike so much and used the rusty can opener to cut it open. He started the fire and set the can on the grill, leaning back and taking a sip from a canteen. Once the beans were warm enough to eat but not burn himself on, he scarfed them down, not realizing how hungry he had actually been.

The sun had begun to slip down as Jack ate the disappointing meal and, once he had finished, he leaned back, placing his feet close to the fire. He lit up another cigarette, thinking about the night a week ago. He shifted uncomfortably, sticking his feet closer to the fire, almost directly into it.

He stared into the fire, trying to convince himself to go back to the sheep. He quietly lit one last cigarette, a sweet calm coming over him as he slipped into a light sleep, half way between waking and sleeping. He shook himself awake long enough to throw the cigarette into the fire and crossed his legs, falling into a shallow sleep.

_____

Ennis pulled the jeans from where they hung over the branch that stuck out from the side of the log. The creek rippled underneath it, and he shook out the pants, staring down at them with a dissatisfied frown. They were still a bit damp, even though they had been drying all day long. He sniffed, folding the jeans over his arm, and, pulling his hat a little lower over his face, he started back towards the camp.

Not having any clothes to wear did not bother Ennis, when no one was looking. Jack had been avoiding the camp for so long that Ennis supposed he had just stopped bothering to come around. Perhaps he had found his own food; Ennis knew that there were plenty of elk around to be hunted, though he doubted Jack could get any. It was probably a cruel thought, he admitted with a slight grin, shaking his head, but it was a true one. From what he had come to know of Jack, he was not exactly an expert in the art of living in the great outdoors.

The first few days Jack had not come around, Ennis had paced the camp, worrying. He worried that Jack was upset at him for what he had done, for what he had tried to make Jack do, for what they both almost gave in to… But they had not, and Jack had not seemed very upset when Ennis had turned on him and taken him to the ground, kissing him, starting to unbutton his shirt, getting into the heat of the moment…

He shook his head, clearing his throat, pushing the thought from his mind. It was not something he wanted to think about, especially at such an important time. He readjusted the hat on his head and kept moving back towards the camp. That day, he had woken up early and washed his clothes at the stream near the camp, then hung them out to dry in the sun, going about his daily chores in the buff. He did not have to worry about Jack coming around, because he had not seen any of the other cowboy for a few days since their awkward incident…

"Damnit," he mumbled under his breath. The memory kept resurfacing. It had been bad enough when it had just been the one kiss in the truck, but this… there was no way Ennis could convince himself that this was just a dream. He wished it had been. And yet, on the other hand…

He paused, kneeling down to scratch at his calf, where a mosquito had been sucking moments earlier. It itched like the devil now, which was a welcome distraction from his earlier thoughts. "Fuckin' bugs," Ennis growled, itching furiously at the spot until it turned a raw red. The bite, itself, did not really distress him that much, but the pent-up frustration of everything that had happened in the past week alone was making him angry.

He stood, stopping scratching before he made himself bleed, and shook his head, adjusting his hat on his head to make sure it was still secure. Then he squinted up into the sky, where the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Jack was probably still with the sheep, eating whatever he had found… hopefully not the sheep, Ennis thought. That was one problem with Jack; he was irrational, and often acted on impulse.

Then again, Ennis thought, kicking at a loose stone, he was the same way. Only he had irrationality in bouts, and they were often violent. He tried to keep his head, for the most part, but there were just some times when he found he could not keep himself under check. Especially under the influence of good whiskey…

He gave up trying to push the thought of Jack from his mind, since he knew it would come back again, and each time it came back, it would just make him angrier at himself for not being able to forget it. He sighed, looking back down at the jeans folded over his arm, then down at his unenthused cock, and frowned. He had spent energy and worry washing his clothes, but what really needed the wash was him.

Ennis pushed his hat forward slightly and scratched his head. He had gotten a haircut before coming up on Brokeback, shearing it close to his head so that it would be out of the way, but the tendrils were beginning to grow out again, slightly. He would probably have a full head of hair by the time the summer was over, unless he could figure out how to use the sheep-shears to trim his own hair down. He would have to ask Jack to be his barber.

The thought amused him. Though, he supposed, asking Jack to style his hair would not be the best idea. Shearing sheep and trimming hair were not the same thing, and he did not want to end up looking like he had cut his own hair without looking in a mirror after a long night of drinking and illicit substances. That thought amused him even more, and he chuckled at the thought, shaking his head. He would never even consider doing drugs, but it was a funny thought.

It was getting dark when he finally got back to camp, and he did not even glance over at the dwindling fire as he hung his still-slightly-damp jeans over a line that hung between two trees, next to his shirt, which he was pretty sure was dry by now. He rubbed the material between his thumb and forefinger, a slight frown on his face. "'Bout dry," he said, nodding to himself and turning away from the clothing. "Be done in the mornin'."

He removed his hat from his head and hung it on a nail that he had hammered into one of the trees he hung his laundry between, then slipped off his boots, hopping slightly as he pulled them off and tossed them by the tree. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth as he turned away from the clothes and started towards the tent again, kneeling down beside a bucket full of spring water he had collected earlier that day. It had been cold when he had gotten it at first, but it had warmed up to almost room temperature by now.

He dipped his hands into it, scrubbing them together to get the dirt off, then splashed water onto his thighs and between them, then under his arms. The rudimentary wash-down would have to do until the morning, when he could go bathe in the stream when it got warmer. He splashed some water onto his face and shook it out, then stood, shaking out his hands and then using them to brush extra water from his body.

Ennis glanced over at the dwindling fire, and started towards it, picking up a stick as he went and sitting down by the fire, poking at it with the stick, letting his hand dangle between his thighs. He coughed slightly to himself, prodding at the fire, trying to get it to go a little higher, to warm himself, scratching at the forgotten bug bite from earlier, which was starting to itch again. It was good to be distracted at a time like this. It was especially good to have something to think about besides Jack, especially when he was sitting around in the nude.

He glanced down at the ground around the campfire, where an assortment of empty bean cans were lying around, drying out from nights earlier when Ennis had eaten alone by the campfire. He set down the stick and picked one up, then got up and started picking up the others. He bent to pick up the last one, when his hand slipped slightly and the lid slit his thumb open. Ennis hissed in pain and dropped the other cans back to the ground, putting his bleeding thumb into his mouth with a frown.

He hesitated a moment, then pulled his thumb from his mouth and stared down at it. With his luck, it would probably get infected. That was the last thing he needed, up here on the mountain with no one but Jack and himself to offer first aid. He sighed, irritated, and glanced back at the can on the ground before picking it up and throwing it off into the bushes. Angry with himself and frustrated from all the pent-up agitation from all the days previous, he picked up another can and threw it into the bushes as well, then another, and then the last can, which he heard hit the bushes with a satisfying rustling noise before rolling out of earshot.

Ennis panted, staring at the bushes, then looked back at his thumb and returned it to his mouth, sucking on it in wound-down vexation, and he turned back with a heavy sigh. He was moving to go get himself a can of something to eat when he tripped over something that was lying in his way. He stumbled, catching his balance, just managing to prevent a turned ankle, and he looked back in agitation at what had been in his way. He assumed it must have been his gun, where he had carelessly left it, or even one of the sheep dogs that had come up to sleep next to the fire in his camp.

The last thing he had expected to see was Jack Twist asleep by the fire. "What the fuck -?!" he exclaimed. Ennis bit his lip, frozen in shock, his eyes wide, and instantly his hand moved to cover his crotch. "Fuckin'…" He was too flustered to think. He turned back to Jack, almost biting through his lip in agitated anxiety, and hoped Jack would not wake up.

_____

Jack squinted himself awake from his nap blinking several times, gaining consciousness ever so slowly. He had been awoken by a sharp kick in the side; he was moving his hand to touch the sore spot when he noticed Ennis standing a few feet away, stark naked. He lifted his eyebrows in mild confusion, a slight frown playing across his face. Was he… No way. This was obviously a dream, Jack thought his frown dissipating to a slight smirk.

"Ya jus' gunna stan' there…?" Jack slurred, never having to initiate any activity in his previous dreams. He watched Ennis a moment through bleary eyes, rubbing them with one hand, still smiling. He blinked a few more times smile falling slightly when Ennis didn't move. His face fell into a look of disappointment, then shock, as he realized he had been staring at Ennis, who was definitely not a dream. He turned away, a blush rising to his face, and mumbled something softly.

"Uh… 'm… Sorry…" Jack stuttered out pushing himself off the ground slowly facing away from the other man. He stumbled towards a tree, looking up at the mountains, and tossed the first thing he reached, Ennis' white hat, to his nude friend.

"I came inta camp, a lil after three, ta…" Jack chose his words carefully, not wanting Ennis to be upset with him, "… get somethin' ta eat. Ya weren't here so I…" Jack motioned to the ground, "… ate a can a beans and… jus' fell asleep." He finished staring at the place on the ground he had been sleeping moments ago. He glanced back up at Ennis, now covered, and felt his face contort slightly as he recalled the night a few days ago. The heavy weight of the situation hung down on his shoulders, causing a visible sag in his posture.

He looked for some topic of conversation and found one in Ennis' gashed thumb. Jack stared in astonishment, "Jesus Christ, Ennis! What the hell happened?!" He instinctively grabbed Ennis' hand and examined the wound. "Almos' through ta the bone…" He mumbled, gently turning the wounded finger this way and that. He released Ennis' thumb and turned to his saddle to retrieve the bottle of whiskey from his pack. He opened the bottle and took off his bandana, wetting the cloth with the alcohol. He turned back to Ennis, poured a small amount directly onto the wound and wrapped the cut in the small cloth.

Jack grinned at his handiwork and glanced at Ennis before looking down at the ground. Just as he was about to tell Ennis to apply pressure to the cut, he noticed the bright red spot on Ennis' leg. He shook his head, frowning in concern, and mumbled, "Yer jus' all kinds a beat up." He stooped to pour a tiny amount of alcohol on that too, wishing he had some calamine lotion for Ennis, to ease the itching. He finished and was about to stand again, when he noticed Ennis' white hat directly in front of his face. He stared a moment and tilted his head up to look at Ennis. His hand gently brushed Ennis' leg just above the knee as he retracted the bottle from near Ennis' calf. He immediately pulled himself back a great deal, his face echoing the disappointment he felt seeping through his gut. He stood and cleared his throat, searching for something to say. He could only conjure up two whispered words, "I'm sorry."

He kicked the ground with the toe of his boot and silently cursed those godforsaken, forbidden things called emotions. His mouth twitched briefly nearly betraying his pent-up frustration. He hated himself for everything: for starting… all that up, for keeping the whiskey, for… enjoying it. He bit back anything he was tempted to say to Ennis, anything he was tempted to do, and tipped his hat low to hide the stinging tears building up just behind his eyes. 'Yer fuckin' disgustin'. Jus' get the hell outta here, ya worthless piece a shit.' He turned his back to Ennis pointedly, and walked towards his horse and mounted her in one swift jump.

"I guess… I'll see ya tamarra," Jack said keeping his responses short, slowly nudging the beige mare towards the trail leading back up to the sheep, keeping his head low and his mouth tightly shut.

_____

Ennis frowned slightly at the question. Was he just going to stand there? Well, he did not have many other options; at the moment, he was doing all he could not to show off his genitals to the world at large, most of all to the other cowboy, and he suddenly felt very cold, out there in the middle of nowhere, atop some mountain, stark naked. He did not even have on his boots, or his hat, both of which he had been wearing earlier on in the day but had, for some inexplicable reason, decided to abandon at the camp. It had been a stupid idea, he realized; an even more stupid idea had been deciding not to bring along a pair of boxers, fearing that they would probably be too much trouble, and get in the way.

At the moment, the thought of boxers was not registering anything but regret, for not bringing them.

Ennis was relieved when Jack tossed him his white hat, which he instantly used to cover his crotch area, pointedly not looking at Jack. He sniffed, fidgeting slightly, and bit his lip, letting out a low, whistling breath, clicking his tongue against his teeth uncomfortably. Then he cleared his throat. "Iss'okay," he said, glancing over fleetingly at Jack before looking away again. "'S not, y'know… your fault." He shrugged, coughing slightly. "Jus' din'… _'spect_ ya there, 's all…"

He listened to Jack's story, nodding along with it, still adamantly not looking at the other cowboy. "Yeah, sure," he said, nodding, when Jack finished his explanation. "I was just… down at the river, y'know… washin' m' clothes." He indicated awkwardly towards the still-damp jeans hanging on the clothes line. "Din' mean t'… be all… exi…" He paused, trying to remember the word he wanted to use. He had heard it once, said by some man in town who had come down from the North, in one of those high-society places with large, eloquent vocabularies. He frowned. "I ain't tryin' t' be a… exi… bish… anolist."

He squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed, hoping that that was the correct term, but sighed, knowing that it probably was not. He was not very bright, and usually ended up embarrassing himself when he tried to sound smarter than he really was. He almost cursed himself for making a fool out of himself, yet again. He was almost thankful for the pull of focus when Jack suddenly found himself interested in Ennis' fresh cut. He held out his hand for Jack to inspect, still holding his white hat firmly over his genitals with his other hand, and watched as Jack fretted over the deep cut.

"Jus'… cut myself," Ennis said, shrugging. He sniffed. "On accident," he added in a low voice. "Stupid fuckin' can done slit my thumb right open, like." He looked up, watching as Jack turned away from him and pulled the bottle of whiskey - which he remembered he had specifically asked Jack to get rid of - out of his saddle-bag and proceeded to tend to the open wound with his own bandana doused in the alcohol. Ennis gritted his teeth, frowning as the alcohol stung the open wound, but said nothing, not wanting to appear weak in front of Jack.

He looked down, wanting to say something but unsure of what, when Jack suddenly put more whiskey on the bandana and began to clean up the mosquito bite he had gotten just a little earlier that day. This one did not hurt as much, but he still made sure not to make any kind of sound that might indicate that the wound hurt. He took a deep, settling breath as Jack finished touching up his wound, but sucked it back in sharply when Jack's hand brushed his leg, just above the knee. He felt something happen when Jack's hand brushed his thigh, even ever so slightly; he wanted to be wrong, but he was almost certain he was not.

Ennis watched as Jack got to his feet again, feeling a blush rising to his cheeks, his ears burning. He shook his head at Jack's whispered apology. "Don't…" he started to say, but trailed off, shaking his head. He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. "Don't be," he said quietly. "Ain't nothin'… happened."

He looked at the ground, still holding his white hat over his genitalia, and nodded as Jack turned and went back to his horse, mentioning some mumbled version of "see you tomorrow". Ennis hesitated a moment, trying to figure out what to say. There was so little that could be said, at a time like this. Then he looked up and held out both hands towards Jack. "Wait," he said. "Don't… don't leave."

It was only then that he realized that he was not using either hand to hold the hat over his groin, and yet it was staying in place.

A bright red flush rose to his face, and his ears burned intensely, and instantly both hands returned to the hat over his crotch. He turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut in mortified embarrassment. Then he shook his head, refusing to look at Jack. "Go," he said through his clenched teeth. "Go on. Jus'…" He lowered his face, trying to hide his face from Jack. "Jus' go," he mumbled quietly.

_____

"Ennis del Mar, you're one a the most confusin' people I've ever met." Jack said, ignoring Ennis' hands-free hat and last comment. Inwardly he sighed in relief, happy he wasn't the only one here with these… feelings. He shook his head and slid off the horse, searching around in the saddle-bag, looking for something. He found his other shirt, a bit wrinkled, but still crisp from hanging out to dry back home. If he was going to stay, which he now planned on doing, he was sure that Ennis would be more comfortable if he was… clothed. He tossed the black shirt to Ennis and arranged all his items, packing them down, pulling the bag tightly closed and grabbing his horse by the reins.

"You can borrow 'em till yer clothes is dry. I figure, hell, we're about the same size." Jack tied the mare to a tree, thinking quickly of an excuse to take the man's first suggestion, "I'll be wantin' my clothes back, so I guess I'll wait around till yers dry. Won't be too long, I don't suppose." He continued walking on into the bushes, "You go ahead an' put those on, I gotta piss." He moseyed over to some bushes a good fifteen feet away, behind a couple of trees, and took his time, waiting to hear the rustling cease, insuring that when he returned, his flustered friend would be fully clothed.

Jack wandered back once he was sure he had given Ennis enough time to dress. "I should probably wash my clothes tomorrow." Jack said, looking down at himself, "I betcha five dollars I smell like cigarettes and livestock." He sat down by the fire minding not to send hopeful glances at the whiskey bottle sitting beside him. He leaned back against the log and stretched his boots towards the fire out of habit. He relished in how good it felt to have a fire going, Aguirre, that bastard, said he couldn't have one up with the sheep. For the first time in a couple days, his feet were beginning to feel warm. He laughed heartily, trying to throw the awkward situation off with a light-hearted joke.

"I have yet ta get around ta washin' these pants." Jack motioned at the pants he had sloppily washed pork-juice off of, "No wonder them dogs liked me so much." Jack smiled and snickered at his own joke, reminding him of a joke in middle-school about kids so ugly that 'dogs wouldn't play with ya if yer momma tied a steak around yer neck.' He cleared his throat and grabbed the water canteen sitting eerily close to the not-forgotten whiskey bottle, anxious for something to do with his hands and drinking coming rather naturally. He took a drink of the cool water, that must have been fresh, wishing it would burn with alcohol .

Jack looked up at the stars, trying to remember the names of a couple of those... constellations. He crinkled his nose momentarily. One was a bear, he was sure of that, a dog, and a bunch of other ones. A ladle or something and... he gave up with trying to distract himself and looked at the more terrestrial forest in front of him. He glanced at the flames, slowly flickering lower and lower and stood, walking over to the pile of firewood that Ennis must have chopped. He grabbed a few logs, kneeled by the fire, and arranged them in the ashes so that the fire would last longer. Suddenly, he found himself staring at the other man through the flames; quickly diverting his attention, he found his way back to his seat on the ground.

Jack laughed, shaking his head, "Have ya heard that new Johnny Cash song that ever'one likes so much? It's called... uh..." He pressed his eyes closed, willing himself to remember, "Ring of Fire." He finally stated triumphantly, grinning and rubbing spots of dirt off his knees. He tilted his hat down, recollecting the words that went here and there.

"I heard it on the radio on my way ta Signal," he cleared his throat nervously, "I dunno... I thought it was a fairly catchy tune."

"Ya know," Jack started, searching for something to say, and finally chuckling cynically, "I cain't believe that fucker has me out there with no fire er nothing and sleepin' in that pup tent." He frowned at the situation, "Smells like cat piss... or worse." He scuffed his feet against a rock, daring a fleeting glance at Ennis. He turned his eyes down, staring at the dancing flames, "We both oughta be in this camp..."

_____

Ennis looked at the ground, still holding his hat firmly over his crotch. "I don't mean t' be," he mumbled, digging slightly in the dirt with one foot. "I jus'..." He shook his head, shrugging, and fell silent. He lifted his head again when Jack suggested letting Ennis borrow his shirt, and caught the shirt when it was thrown to him. He could feel the blush cooling from his face and neck as he looked the shirt over. It was not exactly ideal, but at least it was clothing.

He looked back up at Jack at the suggestion of him sticking around until Ennis' clothes were dry, slightly taken aback. It was a sensible suggestion, but it was still somewhat uncomfortable. Ennis glanced down at the white hat over his groin, then back up at Jack. He pulled the shirt closer to himself, relieved when Jack turned away, going off towards the woods to take a piss. Now that Jack mentioned it, Ennis realized, he had to piss pretty badly, himself, but he was not about to uncover his genitals until the coast was completely clear.

It was just too awkward. He raised his chin, making sure Jack was not looking, then pulled the hat from his stiff member and pulled the shirt on over his head. He frowned slightly, then unbuttoned the first button at the top, loosening it a bit so that it fit comfortably. Strangely enough, Jack was right; the two were almost the same size. Ennis was perhaps the smallest bit taller than Jack in build, but not enough to make much of a difference.

Ennis glanced back up at Jack, making sure he was still otherwise preoccupied, and picked up his hat. He frowned into the hat, looked up again to make sure Jack was not looking, and then turned the hat and shook it out. He pushed leaves and dirt around to cover up any trace, then quickly stood as Jack came back into the camp, pushing the shirt down over his groin, covering up as much as he could. It was an odd look, he was sure, but until his pants were dry, it would have to do. He could wrap a blanket around his lower half, like those Scotsmen did.

Then something hit him about the shirt he wore. This was, he realized, the kind of shirt the girls always wore in those dirty flicks after they had just finished fucking their boyfriends. An "after-sex shirt", he remembered them being called with a tightening in his stomach. He could feel his ears burning. Alma had always told him she did not much like those dirty flicks, and now he found himself wishing he had never seen any. It would have spared him this uncomfortable awkwardness.

At Jack's comment, Ennis shook his head, pulling the shirt as far down as he could manage. "Y'don't smell bad," he said. "Just kinda... nature-y." He shrugged, sniffing, and shifted uncomfortably as he watched Jack settle himself down beside the fire again, seeming totally at ease - or if he was not, he was doing a damn good job of pretending. "If ya want," he said in a low voice. "There's a stream... up there just a bit." He indicated in no particular direction. "'S where I was mine," he added.

He took a step back and watched as Jack took up the water bottle and took a long drink, then set it back beside the whiskey bottle. "Y' din' throw that out?" he asked, in almost a mumble, too quiet for Jack to hear. He stared at the whiskey bottle for a long moment, then back up at Jack, fumbling with the edge of his shirt as Jack meandered back to the fire and stared up at the stars. He watched Jack for a moment, then squinted up at the starry night sky, himself.

The only two constellations he could remember was the North Star, which would lead a stray cowboy back home, and the Pegasus, the winged horse. A faint smile hinted at the corner of Ennis' mouth. Horses always made him calm, which was one of the main reasons he had taken this job in the first place. Then he sighed, looking down again. In the position Aguirre had given him, he had not been able to do much riding. Perhaps he would ask Jack if he would swap jobs, since Jack did not seem particularly thrilled with his own duties.

He was distracted by Jack's question. "Cash?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Heard a' him. Heard his song." He shook his head slowly. "Ain't never much liked that song, though," he said with a faint sigh. Then, at Jack's complaint, Ennis sprang to his opportunity. "I'll do it," he said, almost too enthusiastic about it. He paused, looking away. "I, er..." He shrugged. "Jus' thought maybe you... din' want to do it, so... I could do it fer ya." He shifted uncomfortably. "Y'know," he mumbled.

There was a long, awkward silence. Ennis glanced over, his gaze coming to rest on the abandoned whiskey bottle. He stared at it for a long time. Then his dark eyes returned to Jack, who was sitting by the fire, engrossed in his own little existence. He hesitated a moment, then, a slight grin quirking at the edge of his mouth, he bent over and picked up the bottle of whiskey. He stared at it for a moment, then wandered over to Jack, sitting beside the fire.

He looked down at Jack, then lifted the bottle of whiskey for him to see with a somewhat hopeful half-grin.

_____

Jack pressed down his nervousness at seeing the cowboy smile up at the stars. He kept his head down, listening carefully to what the other said. Ennis jumped quickly on the opportunity to be away from the camp. Jack nodded, smiling, "Sure, you can take the job. I'm gettin' real sick a bein' woken up by them damn dogs. Cain't stop lickin' my face for three seconds." He continued smiling, not really minding the unconditional affection of the dogs.

Jack couldn't believe that Ennis really picked up the whiskey, offering it to him with a smile. He stared at him for a moment, suddenly bursting out into a wide grin, taking the bottle from the other man and taking a deep, burning swig. Now that was the ticket, just what he needed right now. He passed it back to Ennis, taking the second to last cigarette and throwing the pack to the other, followed quickly by the lighter. He inhaled and suddenly frowned. It was ridiculous how many cigarettes he smoked when he was anxious. This had to be his third pack this week, and the week wasn't even over... He made a brief, but firm, mental note to curb that by at least two packs. A pack a week was much better in the long run. He leaned back against the log, blowing softly swirling smoke from his mouth.

"Nice night. Not a cloud in the sky. Stars 'er bright too." He made his few comments on the night and pursed his mouth closed, hoping the tension would lighten between them once they had had a couple swigs. He knew it would, but it couldn't seem to come quickly enough. It currently seemed that Jack's happiness was in a direct link to how comfortable Ennis was with him.

As was usual when whiskey was involved, the two young men lost their inhibition as the bottle of alcohol slowly emptied. As the night grew colder, Ennis' pants and shirt finally dried through and Jack tilted his hat down low so Ennis could change into his own clothes. Soon all self-consciousness was gone and they found themselves poorly singing half-forgotten songs to the coyotes, leaving the punch line out of innumerable bad jokes, and sharing fighting, fishing, and fucking stories with many hearty laughs. Before either realized it, it was pitch dark, with only the slowly dying fire lighting the immediate area.

"It's too dark ta go up ta 'em sheep..." Jack slurred out, rubbing his face. He slowly picked himself up, using a tree to keep his balance. He walked over to the tent, grabbed the blanket Ennis had requested and stumbled back towards the fire.

"You'll freeze ta death when the fire dies down. Yer better off sleepin' in the tent..." Jack argued, blinking numerous times, trying to clear his head long enough to make a coherent statement. Ennis rolled up in the blanket, mumbling something in return, and Jack trudged back to the tent, curling up in the bedroll and quickly falling asleep.

Jack awoke about an hour later to the chattering of Ennis' teeth. He scrunched his face at the thought of how cold it must be out there. 'I fuckin' told him he'd freeze his ass off.' He rolled over to the opening and sat up halfway. "Ennis! Quit yer hammerin' an' get in here, damnit!" He laid back in the bedroll closing his eyes again, listening to Ennis trip over a few pans as he climbed into the tent, then, into the bedroll. Jack tensed, feeling the warmth of the man beside him and lay stark still on his back.

Jack was intent on forcing his attention away from the man breathing softly beside him. His head spun with whiskey and... He didn't want to go there. But, oh, he did. He squeezed his eyes shut in a sad attempt to block out the thoughts swirling in his head. He shifted, slowly so as not to wake up Ennis, and lay on his side, staring straight ahead at the side of the tent. 'Aww, what the hell? He's dead asleep in a drunken stupor. He ain't gonna notice anything.' Jack could hear the more brazen side of himself speaking up, empower by whiskey and hormones. He reasoned with himself, 'But he were ta wake up...' His thoughts trailed off as his logic desperately wrangled with his desires, 'He might not mind.' He closed his eyes tightly, 'Do it, damnit. It's now er never. Do it, ya coward. Do it!' He slowly slid his hand out of the bedroll, maintaining a steady breathing, and reached back. He found Ennis' hand almost immediately and slowly moved it under the bedroll, down his side, and finally to the perfect spot, just below his belt. He gently stroked himself, through his ever tightening Levi's, with the other's hand, closing his eyes as his breathing quickened and grew shallower.

Ennis woke, foggy, from liquor induced, deep sleep, his face contorting briefly as he tried to gain his bearings. He immediately found himself wide-awake as he realized where exactly his hand was. Panicking, he jerked his hand away, sitting up and shoving himself towards the opening of the tent. He almost couldn't believe Jack would really try to pull this on him. He wet his lips as Jack sat up as well.

"Wha' the hell're ya doin'?" Ennis managed, blinking the haziness from his eyes, nowhere near sober enough to fully grasp what was going on. Jack said nothing, but grabbed Ennis' shirt, pulling him forward in an attempt to snatch those lips once more. Ennis immediately threw up his arms in an attempt to push Jack off. A failed attempt as it would seem. Jack was completely set on stealing a kiss from his drunken, almost unwilling bedfellow. Ennis finally caved in, allowing Jack to rest his forehead again his own, the rough shove of his hands turning into caresses on the side of the other's face. Jack took this opportunity to lean forwards, pulling off his jacket while keeping his eyes locked with Ennis'. With the jacket carelessly thrown to the side, his hands went to work on getting his jeans undone. First, the rodeo buckle, then the belt strap, then the damned metal buttons, taking an eternity to finally pull the fly down with a satisfying zip.

Jack slowly blinked his eyes, realizing it was in fact morning. He shifted uncomfortably, absolutely sure he had just had the best wet dream of his life. He sat up, immediately noticing his jeans, unbuttoned around his knees. He rubbed his eyes, a headache pulsing behind them, and ran his hands through his hair, yawning as he did. He leaned back on his elbows, pulled his pants up and buttoned them, ditching the belt that he didn't feel like messing with. He climbed out of the tent, stretching, and noted how badly he wanted a cigarette, thinking fondly to last night. He looked up, searching for Ennis, a feeling of worry mixing with excitement. A feeling that almost made him sick. He wasn't sorry he started this, but he was worried that Ennis was.

'Boy, am I in for it,' he thought with remorse, blinking into the bright light and glancing around for the other man, 'Boy... Am I in for it.'


End file.
